One More Try
by teresa
Summary: Spike's near-death experience in the end of the series cause a slight change in both Faye and himself. With the shift, will they be able to see each other in a new light? COMPLETE!
1. The Many Medical Applications of Liquor

Okay, it's back to the old drawing…um…writing board?  Is that wrong?  Um…okay, never mind.  But it's me!  I'm back, and I'm writing a story, as I said I would.  And maybe I won't kill Faye this time.  Maybe I'll kill _everyone_ else!  No…I wouldn't do that.  In fact, you're guaranteed no main character death in this story because it is being written in honor of poor Agent Kishuku, who hates me because of my other Cowboy Bebop fic.  She finds it to be the ultimate injustice that there's such a good story with such a sad ending.  Oh…well, that's life.  But for you, Kishuku, we'll create something less…painful.  Standard disclaimers apply here.  If I owned Cowboy Bebop, I'd be ultra rich.  I don't, so I'm not, so don't sue.  This takes place…um…about right after the last episode, so there are spoilers if you haven't seen it all.

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One More Try

Part 1

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I closed my eyes and took a deep drag of smoke into my lungs, letting the noxious fumes soak in for a moment before escaping through my barely parted lips.  I let my hand drop away from my mouth and rolled my head back, trying to think of anything but the man who'd left the Bebop no less than two days ago.  I had slept sparingly since his departure, but until I knew for sure whether Spike would be returning or not, I was starting to think that I would be capable of no more than a light doze.

"So then." Jet stepped into the room, looking at the couch where I was seated as though he was considering the furniture and not even addressing my presence.  "When we started, it was just Spike and I."

"And we're back to two." I told him, affecting nonchalance.  "Although, I'm no Spike.  He's more of a bitch than I've ever been."

"Pain in the ass." Jet agreed, putting his hands on his hips.  "It wouldn't be the same without him, though."

"I guess not." I rolled my eyes slightly and put out my cigarette in the ashtray before standing.  "Should I go, then?"

"I had to save his ass last time." Jet reminded me.  "It's your turn."

"This is going to be such a hassle without Ed." I complained halfheartedly as I walked past Jet, moving toward the hangar and putting my full effort into maintaining a calm, unconcerned pace.  You see, every time that Spike ran off and got himself beat halfway to hell, Jet and I always went through this exact same ritual, the only differences being that sometimes he left to search for our wayward companion and we never really believed he'd be in any danger before.  Spike had a way of bouncing back that was totally annoying while being somewhat reassuring.  "Later."

"Faye," Jet's voice was solemn enough that I turned to face him, wondering if he was going to break tradition and say that Spike was probably dead or something else I didn't want to hear right then.  I prayed silently that he wouldn't, because even though it sounds stupid, I had this fear that if someone spoke of the possibility seriously, that would be the end.  "If he fucked up the Swordfish, smack him once for me, okay?  I just fixed that thing."

"Got it." I spared Jet a slight grin of relief before turning and continuing on my way to the Redtail.  As I climbed into the ship and began the startup procedures, I noticed with some shock that my hands were shaking, and I was pretty sure I knew why I'd be so nervous going after him this time. _He's not dead.  He can't die, or I'll kill him._

Trying to concentrate on that and hoping that just _thinking_ he might be dead wouldn't be enough to kill him, I took off.  This was when I started to really wish that genius brat hadn't wandered off, leaving Jet and myself to try and find the world's most irritating man on our own.  It wasn't like I didn't have my own resources, and I'm not saying I need Ed or anything, but she made things a lot easier when she could tell us exactly what to do and where to go, or at least give us a hint.  I knew that Spike would have gone straight for Vicious, heading for the headquarters of the Red Dragon syndicate.

Now if I only knew where exactly that was, I'd be in great shape.  I knew that it wouldn't _really_ change anything if I had some clue of where Spike was.  If he was dead, there was nothing I could do, and if he was alive, he'd come back in due time.  So why didn't I just wait for him?  I don't know, maybe I was still feeling some of the desperation I was filled with when he left the Bebop, flying off into the sunset like something from one of those hokey old westerns.  God, I had felt so stupid when he left.  I'd panicked and practically told the man I was in love with him and went on about how the crew was all I had, and he just turned and left like it didn't mean shit to him.  Figures, I get so used to every guy jumping at the chance to get a piece of my ass, and the one time I pour my heart out, the guy I want isn't even listening to me.  He could have cared less.  I think that the only person who could have stopped Spike from going out and getting all shot up was the infamous Julia.  Sadly, Julia couldn't be there.  She was a little bit dead.

Honestly, I'd been a little jealous of Julia, and I suppose I still was.  I was the woman that every man wanted to fuck, but she was a lot more than that.  Guys would _die_ for her.  Cold guys, hard guys that seemed not to care about anything would go out and sacrifice themselves all for her.  Guys like Spike.  Sure, they wanted to fuck her too, but with her there was something that kept them coming back, that held onto them, kind of drew them to her and tied them there.  God, if she wasn't so damn cool, I could have hated that bitch.  I met her once, even offered to team up with her, but no, she knew that I was nothing and she didn't want to waste her time with me.  Of course, she was a lot nicer about it than all that, but I know that next to her, I really am nothing.  Ignorable, forgettable, expendable, easily replaced, not worth dying for, not worth listening to, not worth anything.  That was me.  The emotionless sexpot.

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It took me nearly a week to find that damn man.  First I had to learn where the Red Dragon headquarters was, and of course, Spike wasn't at the scene of the crime.  I had expected that much, but I did get to see the utter devastation he'd chosen to leave in his wake.  Yes, Spike had definitely been there.  He'd always been one to overdo things.  After that, I had to figure out where Spike had gone, which took a lot of detective work on my part.  Finally, I was standing outside a shitty looking apartment complex, waiting for someone to leave so I could walk in without having to bust the lock.  I mean, I could have busted in easily enough, but that's something _Spike_ would do.  Like I said, he's always overdoing things.

Anyway, after a good five minutes of pretending to care about my cigarette more than anything else in the world, someone finally left, and it was a damn good thing because I was starting to get really cold out there.  I guess even though my little outfit's convenient when I'm questioning a guy, it's not the best winter wear.  So I slipped in the building looking very natural, not that there was anyone in the dim hallway who could see me, but that's beside the point.  Now, you may be wondering if I was going in there unarmed, and that's just a silly question.  Of course not, but as to where I was keeping a gun with that little outfit on…well, use your imagination.

Now, there was still one slight problem with Spike's location.  I knew that he was being kept on the top floor, but I wasn't really sure which room he was in, so I figured I'd just knock on all the doors until I found the guy who had supposedly taken him in.  Word was that he was an Asian kid, so I figured, how many Asians could there be in one building?  The fact that the old lady who'd inadvertently let me in was Asian had kind of caused my confidence in this plan to slip.  However, I was pretty confident that I'd be able to tell a syndicate member from some regular teenager, so I knocked on the first door, getting a story about how I was looking for my sister's apartment ready as I heard the door unlock, but I knew as soon as the guy opened the door that I'd found the place I was looking for.  First of all, he only had two locks on his door, enough for common criminals, but fewer than necessary in this part of town.  It showed that he wasn't really afraid.  Secondly, he didn't stare at my breasts as soon as he saw me, and to me that means he's someone to be reckoned with.  That might not make any sense, but if you have guys staring at your chest all the time, you get worried when they don't.

"I'm here for Spike."  I let my hand drift toward where my gun was hidden behind me, letting the movement look casual enough that it shouldn't arouse suspicions from even a seasoned member of the infamous Red Dragon syndicate.  Not that this kid looked seasoned to me.  I'd say that he was probably eighteen, twenty years old at the most, which added to my worry over the fact that he wasn't staring at my chest.  Although, he did give it a good long glance as soon as I spoke.  That made me feel a little safer.  "I'm from the Bebop."  If he was friendly with Spike at all, I assumed that he'd recognize that name and let me in.  If not, I might have to persuade him to let me see my crewmember.

"Faye Valentine?  Yeah, I know who you are." His glance again returned to my chest and then down to my legs.  At the same time, the violent tension that had been building up in the air around us dissolved.  It was still a little tense, but only a bit.  I let my hand drop to my side and offered him a slow smile.  Guys love it when I smile like that.  Apparently, they think it means that I like them staring at me like I was made expressly for the pleasure of men.  It irritates me a bit, but I've gotten over it.  After all, my looks have saved my ass on more than one occasion, so I'd gotten pretty used to using them like they were some sort of weapon.  Spike practiced martial arts, I practiced looking trashy.  Not that I couldn't kick a few asses on my own, but generally, I left the dirty work to Spike.  We made a good team that way.

"Can I come in?"  I didn't even think about the way my voice sounded a bit husky, how I lowered my face to look up at the boy through my lashes.  It was so engrained in me to present myself as an easy lay to get exactly what I wanted in a timely manner that I didn't even get embarrassed about it anymore.

"Sure, he's not doing great, but I've been watching out for him.  Feeding him and all that." The kid told me as he let me in, closing the door behind us as we walked into the disorganized living space.  I made sure to let him walk ahead of me, just in case he wasn't as friendly as he was acting at the moment.  I didn't really think that this kid was going to be much trouble if he started to be disagreeable, but I didn't want to have to get in a fight.  I really didn't like getting violent when I wasn't angry at all, since it was just risking an injury that might impair my face, my meal ticket for so long now that I valued it above all my other possessions.  Not that I had a lot of things to value, but there it was.  "He woke up yesterday, but I'm not sure if he's really doing that great yet."

"Oh jesus." The words were drawn from my lips as I entered the room that the kid had led me to, forgetting all about not turning my back on him as I rushed to the poor attempt at a neat palette on the floor where Spike was sleeping, tangled in blankets and looking extremely restless and perhaps a bit feverish.  His wounds were extensive, I could tell that much right away, and I pursed my lips at the amateur skill with which they'd been bound.  Obviously, this kid did not have any medical training.  The gauze was a bit dirty looking, as though it hadn't been changed once, and the amount of blood that had soaked through and caked the gauze as well as his flesh in great black patches made it hard to tell if he was still bleeding or not.  "Are you the only one that's been taking care of him?"

"Uh…yeah, I'm not really that great with fixing people up.  They don't really teach you that sort of thing when they're trying to make you go out and kill people.  You kind of have to learn for yourself." The kid was silent for a moment as my hands ghosted over the sickly looking flesh caked in dried blood, afraid to touch him without knowing exactly where he was hurt and how badly.  "I bound the bigger wounds…but I ran out of gauze.  So it's not a really great job."  He actually sounded apologetic, and a bit ashamed.  Damn straight.  It was a good thing I'd come looking, or Spike would've probably died in this dumb kid's crappy apartment.

"Did you stitch him up at all?" I asked.  I didn't know how deep the wounds were, but I could tell pretty easily that at least a few of them had to be deep.  Especially that huge one on his side.  It was so bad I could smell the blood, and I was pretty sure that at least one of these wounds must be infected.  That would explain why he looked like he had a fever despite the blood loss the kid's mediocre attempts at care had allowed.

"I don't know how, so I thought it'd be better if I didn't." the kid sounded younger and younger with every passing moment, and I was starting to wonder if he was maybe sixteen or even younger.

"How old are you?" I asked, wanting to know exactly what I was dealing with.

"Eighteen." He told me.  So, he was an adult.  Barely.  I suddenly wished I'd had the foresight to bring some medical supplies.  Of course, how was I to know that the one guy who decided not to let Spike bleed to death outside a destroyed building was going to be the world's most inexperienced doctor?

"What's your name again?" I asked him.  It wouldn't do for me to just address him as "kid," after all.  I didn't think he'd like that very much, and he'd probably become difficult.

"Lee." He told me, and even that sounded a bit contrite.  In the time since he'd first seen me, I'd apparently gone from hot chick to disapproving auntie.  Not that I really minded, so long as he did what I said.

"Okay, Lee.  I need you to go get me a few things.  You should be able to find them at any good corner store.  Nowhere dirty though, got it?"  I asked, glancing at him as he nodded.  I stood and looked Spike over as I dictated my list for him.  "Get me a roll of fishing wire.  Plastic, thin stuff.  Don't get anything with metal in it, okay?  I carry a little with me…but I think we're going to need a lot."  I gave him a short glance to make sure he was still with me.  "Get me a lot of medical gauze.  A lot.  You know the rolls?" I made a circle with one hand to indicate the size of the common rolls that were sold in most stores.  "Get me about…twenty of those."

"Twenty?" he hadn't questioned me before, but obviously he saw this as excessive.

"You have to change the dressings regularly, Lee.  We're going to need a lot, or he's going to be worse off than he is now."  As though he could be much worse off, but I wanted to make the kid listen to me.  "I'm also going to need medical pads.  You know those squares?  Get me ten of the big ones and about twice as many of the medium sized ones."  I was aware that I was speaking to Lee as though he was a five year old, but I didn't want to take any chances and have him not understand me.  At this point, I had precious little faith in his knowledge of medical supplies and procedures.  "Get me some antiseptic fluid.  It'll look like water in a big plastic bottle, but it should be right near any bandages and other medical supplies a store carries.  Ask if you aren't sure.  And get me some liquor.  Something really strong, okay?"

"What for?" Lee asked.

"I need a drink right now." I joked.  Of course, he stared at me blankly, and I rolled my eyes before explaining.  "I can use it to sterilize his wounds and to knock him out if things get too painful."

"Okay." He agreed, still looking a little unsure about the last request.

"Now…I have a good needle with me.  Do you have clean towels and rags?  Lots of them?"  I asked.

"I just did the laundry yesterday." He answered.  "There should be enough."

"I hope you're not worried about getting blood on them, because I need them to clean his wounds out before they fester." I told Lee.  He didn't seem concerned, so I continued.  "Where are they?"

"In the bathroom.  That door we passed on the way back here." He pointed down the hallway he'd led me down and I nodded, moving forward and basically shoving him out of the room.

"Okay, you better get going.  I don't want to waste any time." I shooed him ahead of me, and he glanced back once before leaving, comfortable with the role of errand boy, which he had much more experience with than that of nursemaid.  I raided his bathroom, taking every last scrap of clean linen he owned, feeling a sadistic smile creep on my lips at the thought that I might ruin all of them.  That'd show this stupid kid to practically kill Spike with his incompetence.  I mean, I was glad that someone had taken the time to pick my crewmember out of the wreckage and try and keep him alive, but seriously, this kid was a joke.  It seemed as though, even though he'd never admit it, Spike needed to be part of the crew as much as I did.  He probably didn't crave the acceptance or anything, but he obviously needed us to take care of him.

Now, Jet was a proficient enough makeshift doctor, but I personally had taken on the role of medical practitioner on the ship after the first couple of times Spike had been brought back to the Bebop bleeding through more holes than Jet knew how to handle.  I didn't claim to be any sort of qualified nurse or anything, but I had spent the better portion of a year living with a doctor after I'd been frozen, so I had picked up a few things, and I could definitely handle the basic kind of injuries that Spike seemed to love coming back to the ship with.  You know, sprains, bruised ribs, gunshot wounds, stabbing wounds, and the occasional broken bone.  All of that was pretty routine for him.  Of course, the only problem with this setup was that Spike was much like a five year old child when I tried to help him, and he refused to just let me do what needed to be done since he always claimed that he was fine and didn't need any help from _anyone_.  That was the real reason I was sending Lee out for liquor.  If you got Spike drunk enough, he didn't really care that he wasn't appearing to be the epitome of macho resilience at the moment.

Of course, when I sat next to a large bowl I'd found and filled with hot water, setting down the last of the towels and turning my attentions to Spike, I didn't have anything to guarantee me that he'd stay asleep for very long once I started touching him where it hurt.  And from the looks of him, it probably hurt everywhere.  I decided to start off by getting that stupid ratty blanket out of my way, untangling it from Spike's long limbs and tossing it to one side.  Underneath that, Lee had allowed Spike the dignity of his boxers, but all his other clothing had been removed for the kid's attempts at medical treatment.  At least that was one less thing I had to worry about.  It was nice to see that Spike had relatively few stray wounds of any concern littering his arms and legs, which meant that I would have less to worry about when I decided to take him back to the Bebop.  It was a lot harder to move a half-conscious man who couldn't walk at all than one that was relatively able.

As I considered the happy possibility of an early adieu to Lee, I began to unwrap the poorly made binding on Spike's upper left thigh.  "Just hold still now, this might hurt."  I talked to him whenever I treated him, even if he was still unconscious.  I figured that since he was all too capable of playing dead, I might as well assume he could hear me at any time.  That, and I kind of pathetically get a kick out of the idea that he'll listen without making some smart ass comment.  I know, it's a sad story, but that's my life.

After I threw out the old, blood-caked dressings, I sacrificed the first of Lee's rags, wetting it through and then wringing it out before attending to Spike's thigh with meticulous concern, cleaning away every last bit of blood that had dried on and caked itself into the hair that grew there.  Spike was still a bit restless, but he didn't seem to mind the attention so much that he would stop me, so I continued my work, cleaning the wounds on his other leg as well before turning my attention to his arms.  They seemed to be doing pretty well other than a few deep slices in one and a bullet wound on the other that looked to have gone through his entire arm cleanly.  At least I didn't have to take a bullet out.  I hated that.  It always woke Spike up in no time flat.

So I was working on his arms when Lee returned, looking a bit upset about the state of his linens, but holding his tongue as he handed the supplies over and asked if I'd care for some lunch.  I politely declined, not really wanting to learn about this boy's other domestic abilities first-hand.  Ignoring my slight distraction, I continued my work as Lee left me to it.  Using the gauze and pads, I rebound the shallower wounds and then stitched up the gash on his thigh as well as another nasty wound he'd garnered just below his right knee and another on the inside of his right forearm.  After that, I decided it was time to do something about that terrible mess of bandages that made up Spike's chest for the moment.  I got about two feet of the gauze pulled off before I ripped a large bit of dried blood from the main wound, causing a yelp and a jerk to come from my patient.  I paused, but he didn't seem to really be awake, so I continued.

"Hold still, Spike, okay?"  I did offer that before I moved once more, as though it would have helped whether he'd heard it or not.  Spike _never_ listens to me.  Actually, I take that back.  I think that he listened to me on occasion, but that it was for the sole purpose of doing exactly the opposite of whatever I'd suggested.  At this point, I would like to say that even if you're working with someone who is completely still and unresisting, it is very difficult to remove blackened, dried on, blood-soaked bandages gently.  Basically, if you aren't lucky enough to have some really good sedatives on hand, your patient is _going_ to wake up pretty quickly once you start tugging the dressings off, opening the wounds whether that's your goal or not.

The fact that Spike was already tossing and turning and twitching made the entire production that much more difficult.  In fact, I have to admit that I'd expected the restless man to wake up even before I sewed up the deeper gashes in his arms and legs, so once I got that far, I took a lot of care, practically sitting on him as I worked quickly, hoping to keep him still enough that I didn't cause more damage than necessary as I sped through the most delicate part of the work.  This can be dangerous if you're inexperienced with stitches, but I think I'd sewed that man up so much, I could have made a quilt of him by that time.

However, Spike stayed in a state of unconscious resistance during the entire procedure, so when he did stir and start to wake up as I unbound the myriad of gashes that marred his stomach and chest, I was actually a little bit relieved.  I had started to think that he was much more ill than I'd originally judged him to be, as he wasn't waking up and he was still thrashing weakly in his sleep.  Plus, I could tell from the contact that had occurred while I worked on him that his entire body was a lot hotter than it should be considering his normal temperature and not even thinking about all the blood he'd apparently lost.  I was afraid to even test the temperature of his forehead where a large bruised split showed me exactly where Spike had fallen after he'd been unable to support himself any longer.  Whatever it was, I knew that he must have at least one infected wound or a bullet that hadn't been pulled out.  I was really starting to hate that Lee kid.

Carefully, I climbed on top of Spike's hips, straddling him so that when he did wake up in mere moments, as the pain on his face was hinting would be the case, he'd be less apt to jump up and ruin all the lovely work I'd just done.  That taken care of, I let my weight settle after making sure I wasn't on any of his larger wounds, as that would likely increase my difficulties and his.  Going back to the haphazard mess Lee had made of Spike's upper body, I followed the gauze, pulling it off a particularly nasty looking patch on Spike's left shoulder.  I tried to pull gently enough to not reopen the wound while still allowing me to clean the blood that covered him and redress his wounds properly, but apparently, I was not gentle enough.

"Holy shit Lee!  What the fuck!" Spike's body bucked wildly for a moment after I'd pulled the last layer of gauze away, and a slow flow of thick blood began to surface from the broken scabs.

"You better not think I'm as shitty at this as that dumb kid." I gritted angrily before discarding the shoulder dressings and reaching for a new cloth to wash away the disgusting amount of blood and scabs on his shoulder.

"Huh…what the…" Spike's eyes opened then, and for some reason that is beyond me, I felt a smile creep over my lips at the sight of the atypical colored gaze resting on me.  He was definitely still alive.  That's when the relief of it all hit me.  I mean, I'd known for some time that in _theory_ Spike was alive.  Hell, I'd been working on his restless body for about an hour and a half already, and yet somehow, the sight of his eyes, coherent and still shining with life, were the true verification for me.  He was alive.

"You scared the shit out of us, you know that?" I laughed, turning my face down so he wouldn't see the tears that had chosen that inopportune moment to well up in my eyes.  Seriously, if I really had to cry, couldn't I have done it at a time when Spike couldn't see me?  Nothing made me feel like more of an ass than letting Spike see me crying and looking like the stupid, emotional woman that he expected me to be.

"Faye…why are you sitting on me?" Spike asked me then, and of all the responses I could have come up with, all the witty retorts or authoritative snaps, I couldn't find a single word to say.  Worse than that, I could feel my cheeks becoming warm.  I was _not_ blushing.  I didn't blush.  Ever.  To punish Spike for having the audacity to embarrass me, I pressed down a little firmer than was strictly necessary with my washcloth on his shoulder wound, getting a wince and a sharp string of curses for my efforts.

"Don't be a baby."  I told him, continuing to clean the wound with less force, rinsing the rag out several times as he lay silently below me, watching my movements in a way that made me a bit nervous.  "What is it?"  I asked him finally, wiping carefully at the last of the blood that had oozed out of the wound since I began.  Looking at the round pucker of the wound, I bit my lip slightly, trying to decide whether it was a bullet hole or not.

"I'm not usually awake for this." Spike told me, making me immediately reach for the nearby bottle of liquor.  "No, it doesn't hurt as much as when Lee was doing his shit, so I think I'll be fine.  I just…it's funny.  You look so different when you're concentrating on something."

"Did you get shot here?" I asked him, momentarily ignoring his commentary.  I wasn't sure what he was saying, but I knew that whatever it was, it had to be some sort of an insult.  That was basically the only type of comments I got from Spike.

"Uh…yeah, I guess." He answered, lifting his head slightly to try and get a look at the hole, but obviously he couldn't get much of a view.

"You guess?"  I rolled my eyes.  This shouldn't have been an issue.  Most people _know_ when they get shot.  "Well, do you _guess_ Lee got the bullet out?"

"Um…I don't think so.  That would've hurt a lot, and I don't remember it." Spike made a slight face.  I don't think he liked me pulling bullets out any more than I did.

"Well, that would explain why you look like you've got the plague." I sighed in defeat, looking around for something I could use to pull out the bullet.  "Where the hell did you _find_ this kid, anyway?"

"Hey, it wasn't my choice." Spike gave me a defensive look as I stood, still looking for something I could use.  Going over to the dresser, I rifled through the top drawer until I found something suitable to my needs.  "You're not really going to use those, are you?" Spike sounded slightly worried as I stood opening and closing the needle-nose pliers with satisfaction.

"The bullet has to come out." I hesitated before sitting back on his hips.  He might have claimed he'd stay still, but I knew that Spike usually couldn't handle it when I pulled bullets out.  Not that I was bad at it, or that he was weak or anything.  Have _you_ ever been shot?  It almost always hurts a lot worse coming out than going in, trust me.  Especially if it's been left in for nearly a week.

"Where are my pants?" Spike asked, noting that my calves were touching the skin of his thighs.  I gave him an admonitory glance while I opened the liquor bottle.  It was cheap vodka, strong enough to suit my purposes.

"Don't distract me." I warned him, dousing a clean rag in vodka and cleaning the pliers thoroughly.  "You want some?"

"I don't need that shit." Spike told me.  He always did this when he was coherent.  It was why I liked to get everything done before he woke up again.  Sadly, he was in sorrier shape than usual, so that hadn't been possible.

"Your choice.  Better stay still." I warned him once more before I leaned forward, trying to get a good view of what I was doing as I carefully doused the wound before carefully inserting the pliers in the bloody hole.  To Spike's credit, he didn't scream out, but his entire body went tense after I got the head about an inch in, and I could see him sweating slightly.  "Sure you're fine?" I asked, not looking up as I probed deeper, searching for a telltale metallic resistance that I had to find before this unpleasantness could come to an end.

"Just…wondering."  Spike gritted the words out as I rested my free hand on his chest so I could support myself better over him.  I glanced at him, and was curious to see that instead of looking at me, his eyes were downcast, as though he was trying to see the damage covering the rest of him without getting up.

"What?" I decided to talk with him if he thought it would distract him from the pain.  God knows _I_ wouldn't have said no to the liquor.  Spike's strange like that.  Suddenly, I felt a little tap, and I gave him a small smile, "I got it.  Just a second."

"Bout…time." He grumbled slightly.  I had to feel a little bad for him right then.  It was really painful getting a bullet out, and that was when you had _good_ equipment, not stupid Lee's bedroom of death and the dirty needle-nose pliers.  And even though the _ends_ of the pliers are nice and skinny, they get pretty thick further up, and I personally would not have want them crammed into my shoulder.  Add to that the fact that the hole was swollen and irritated because the bullet had been left inside, and you can see exactly how much I was starting to respect Spike's pain threshold at the moment.

"Hold on…just a little more." I was staring intently at the hole, concentrating on extracting the bullet smoothly so that I wouldn't cause Spike any more pain than I already had.  I didn't realize that I had stuck my tongue out of the corner of my mouth until I had the bullet out and Spike began laughing a weak, half conscious sort of laugh.  Suddenly, I was blushing.  Again.  I really hated that man sometimes.  To cover my embarrassment, I concentrated on cleaning the wound a bit more before fastening a few quick stitches and binding it properly.

"Jesus…if I didn't know better, I'd think you were mad at me." Spike chuckled slightly after I'd finished with his shoulder and began unwrapping the deep gash in his side.

"I know it hurts, but I'm not the dumbass who was going to let you die with a bullet in your shoulder."  I pointed out as I reached the last layer of gauze, pulling it up as gently as possible.  Despite my caution, Spike was cursing under his breath so fluently that I was actually impressed.  "Want a drink?"

"Nah, this is just a stab wound." Spike told me.  "Stitches aren't too bad.  Not after that bullet crap."

"Hey, would you rather I left it in?" I asked him, raising my eyebrows at him in challenge.  I wasn't really in the mood for his attitude, but considering that he was in a lot of pain and was also teetering on the edge of consciousness, I figured that I could allow him a few rude comments for the time being.  "I could just put it back, you know."  I made as if to reach for the pliers, even though I was really just reaching for a clean washcloth.

"No, that's okay." Spike immediately countered.  I laughed slightly; he hadn't sounded afraid, but the way he'd answered so quickly had insinuated that he believed I'd do it.  Somehow, that put me in a better mood, knowing that he took me seriously, whether I'd been joking or not.

"This is from Vicious, isn't it?" I indicated the deep gash that I was working on.  It looked like something that wicked sword of his might have caused, and besides that, I had been hoping to find a way to bring up the topic of the man that Spike had left the Bebop with intentions of killing.

"Yeah." Spike's eyes suddenly dimmed a bit, and I felt bad for bringing it up.  I couldn't help that I was curious, but apparently it wasn't on Spike's current list of favorite conversation topics.  "I killed him."

"I thought so."  I didn't offer an opinion further than that.  I don't think he wanted one.

"Do you still have that vodka?" Spike asked.  I smiled, nodding and helping him prop up his head before handing him the bottle.  Most people wouldn't encourage their friends to drink their troubles away, but most people don't know Spike.  For people like us, it was the only way sometimes.  And it's not as though I let him drink himself into oblivion, after all.  As soon as I finished with his chest, I took the vodka away from the gently dozing man who was currently fading between sleep and wakefulness.  Taking a look at the small split on his forehead, I decided that I would simply wash his face and then call it good.  After he woke up more fully, the two of us would head back to the Redtail, but in the mean time I was content to watch him doze.

After it had grown dark, we got up to leave, and I managed to say goodbye to Lee without one snide comment about his medical skills.  As we walked, I considered his profile, and I felt happier than I had in a long time.  I wasn't someone who had the best of luck, and it had been a long time since I'd come out ahead, or even broken even.  With Spike alive, safe, and returning to the Bebop, it felt like maybe I hadn't lost everything after all.  Maybe I was getting one more try.

I'd do my best.

*****

The End (Of Part 1, That Is)


	2. Spike, Stop Being An Ass

I'm back!  I have to admit, I wasn't really feeling this story at first, and it took me all week to write the first chapter, but I feel like with all new stories, the beginning is one of the hardest parts.  You have to try and grab your audience, you have to get your tone down and set a precedent for the rest of the story, and you have to wait until your roommate is awake so that you don't feel guilty typing and maybe keeping her up all night.  Also, you have to be well fed or you can't think right, it's something like this in my head when I try to write on an empty stomach:  _Okay…so Faye is fixing up Spike and then…maybe they're hungry…I'm hungry…I wonder if there's any cookies left_.  Yeah…it doesn't get a lot done.  Also, a friend and I are collaborating on this music video, so the free time I usually get for writing has been kind of infringed upon in that respect.  I don't mind or anything, but sometimes I feel like if I don't write I'll go insane.  It's like…my medication or something.  I think I better end this intro on that weird note…

*****

One More Try

Part 2

*****

"Take off your pants."  I ordered the stubborn man who was sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette and doing his best to pretend he didn't notice me prodding at halfway healed wounds on his arms.

"No way." Spike wasn't wearing his usual jacket and slacks since they were still full of holes from his escapade a couple of weeks ago.  I had offered to mend them, but of course that only convinced Spike that he was entirely capable of dealing with that issue on his own.  I wasn't sure of his progress, but the fact that he was still lounging around in this work-out pants and a wife beater told me that he wasn't finished yet.  I kind of doubted that he'd even started, though the mental image of Spike sewing up the holes in his clothing was somehow extremely amusing to me, so I hadn't offered my help since then.

"Don't be an ass." I chided him, moving to get to his left shoulder.  It was doing a lot better, even though it had been the most difficult of all his injuries to deal with since it had grown slightly infected because of the length of time that Lee had left the bullet in it.  I had removed the gauze only the day before, and it was now covered in a thick bit of padding taped to his shoulder neatly.  I peeled the tape back, considering when it might be ready to have the stitches removed.  "Take them off." I prompted, acting utterly disinterested in his argument except for the strong poke I gave his shoulder, coaxing a loud yelp of pain out of the man.

"Dammit, don't do that." Spike shot me a glare, using the excuse of stamping his cigarette butt out in the ashtray to scoot a bit away from me.  I sighed slightly, wondering at how much less crowded the ship might be without Spike's ego _and_ his pride.

"Take them off and I won't." I offered, making it seem like a fair choice.  I might let him try to fix his clothes on his own, that was funny.  But I didn't want to walk over his dead body on the way to the shower because he was too stubborn to let me do what I felt was one of the few things I could manage to do well without having to shake my ass.  I mean, we might not have liked Jet's cooking, but we didn't go and kick him out of the kitchen.  That was his thing, and this was mine.

"Go away." Spike leaned back on the couch and I rolled my eyes at him in irritation.  Seriously, the man was completely obnoxious.  It wasn't like I was _really_ bothering him.  If I was, he would have just gotten up and left a long time ago.  He just loved to make me fight every inch of the way.  Sometimes I wondered if it would really be that bad to let him get gangrene or something like that.  Maybe then I'd get a little more respect and cooperation.  As it was, I felt like every time I tried to do my unofficial job, it was like forcing medicine down a spoiled child's throat.

"Take off your pants so I can finish and I _will_."  I tried to sound calm.  I was the reasonable one in this situation, after all.  He was just behaving like a five year old.

"I don't need you poking me.  I'm perfectly fine."  Spike reached for where his cigarettes would have been in his jacket pocket.  Of course, his hand found nothing but the thin cloth of his undershirt, so he paused before brushing at it as though he was smoothing out some invisible wrinkle like that had been his original goal.

"Fine.  Then take off your shirt so I can check your side."  I compromised again.  See?  I was the reasonable one.  I was _always_ the reasonable one.

"What, are you obsessed with me?" Spike cracked, a smug smile pulling up on the corners of his mouth.  "You keep trying to get my clothes off."  There was a challenge glinting in his eyes.  Damn him.  He knew that I couldn't back down when he made that face.  It was infuriating.

"Spike, take them off right now!" I stood, stomping one of my white boots down angrily.  Boots always make really satisfying noises when you're angry.

"You want them off, try to get them."  Spike's smile widened  as he crossed his arms behind his head.  _Damn_ that man!  He was _enjoying_ this!

"Don't test me, Spike." I warned him, shaking a finger as though it might make him listen to me.  Of course, he just started laughing at me.

Now, I _try_ to be a patient, reasonable woman the majority of the time, but every person has their breaking point, and Spike specialized in reaching _mine_ about five times a day just to show that he could.  I'm well aware of the fact that my best course of action in this situation would be to simply ignore him, but it's hard to ignore someone whose chosen purpose in life seems to be driving you completely insane.  Also, it's hard to think clearly when you're practically seeing red.  And that's why, instead of stomping off with my dignity intact, I threw the ashtray at his head and kicked him in the shins before lunging at him.

"Shit, Faye!" Spike jumped up at the impact and attempted to escape, but I was too fast for him.  "Crazy fucking bitch!" he struggled as I pulled at his collar in an enraged attempt to get him to do what I'd been telling him to do for almost ten minutes now.  Take off his damn shirt.  At least I wasn't pulling on his pants, because at that moment, right as Spike was starting to wriggle away, leaving me pulling his shirt over his head, Jet entered the room.

"What's going on in here?"  Jet's hands were on his hips, a spatula in one hand, an apron tied around his waist, and a stern look on his face.  We both froze instantly, turning to look at him, me with fistfuls of Spike's shirt, and Spike with his head finally peeking out from under the hem of the shirt that had been just been pulled over his head, but still had a hold on his arms.  Somehow, I suddenly felt extremely foolish, and I stepped away, letting Spike's shirt drop to the ground.  Before I could offer a highly embarrassed explanation as to why he'd just walked in on me ripping Spike's shirt off, Jet shook his head and sighed deeply before turning back around.  "Never mind.  Sorry I interrupted, I just thought you'd guys want to do that in your rooms."

"We weren't doing _anything_!"  I immediately called after the man, but Spike was no help, he picked up his shirt and pulled it back on over his bandaged chest, laughing at me before leaving the room.

I hate that man so much.

----------

"You didn't have to fight me on it."  I snipped one of the sutures that helped stitch closed the gash Spike had received just below his right knee.  Altogether, that particular wound had required twenty-two stitches that I now had to remove one at a time.  I was on number three.  It had been two days since Jet had walked in on our embarrassing fight in the living quarters of the Bebop, and I had moped for some time afterward.  Although Spike had seemed to think it was all pretty funny at the time, he didn't resist when I finally approached him once more with a medical kit, having decided that no matter how the man infuriated me, I had a job to do, and I would do it.

"You didn't have to pelt me with the fucking ashtray."  Spike almost reached up to touch the lovely black eye I had managed to give him as a result of my outburst.  "I was just giving you a hard time."

"I know." I admitted a bit grudgingly.  "But you really pissed me off."  I pulled out the fifth stitch, taking care to do it smoothly and quickly while not yanking on it.  I was very good at taking out stitches, and Spike never seemed to feel it when I was doing it.  I suppose it helped that I'd had so much practice, but it was still something that I took an odd sort of pride in being able to do well.

"You know, it's not like I've never had to take care of myself." Spike pointed out.  Somehow, that comment, although perfectly obvious to me and to him, was a bit painful to hear.  I'd never been officially designated as Spike's nurse or anything, and I suppose I had always felt we had a silent understanding on the matter.  Jet had been more than willing to hand that responsibility over to me, and I suppose it made me feel as though I was really earning my keep.  I helped out in other ways, I suppose.  When we went out after a bounty, I was always right beside Spike with Ed and Jet back at the Bebop helping us from there.

I guess I should have been satisfied with that, but the fact of the matter was that even though I would _never_ want to admit it to Spike, I almost always felt like I was the backup, the unnecessary extra.  Most of the time, I was sure that he could have carried things out without my help.  The only time I was really helpful was when I was made to flaunt myself as a distraction or temptation to some potential bounty.  I didn't have Ed's information network, or Jet's gift for organized strategy, or Spike's fighting ability. I could kick some ass, sure, but anyone I could take out wasn't any sort of challenge to Spike.  So when I discovered that my small, adept fingers could do something more helpful than get someone off, I quickly became attached to that.  I decided that if they needed me to keep Spike from dying every time he acted recklessly, I would _really_ be a part of the crew.  They'd need me like I needed them.  After all, the Bebop was all I had left.

"I know." I finally responded, pausing as I looked at the ninth stitch.  I'd continued to work as I had thought about Spike's comment, but now I pulled back a bit.  I was kneeling on the ground in front of Spike, who was sitting back on the couch, his legs bare and his pants pooled in a small bundle next to me.  I looked at the pair of medical scissors I was holding, long handles with short, sharp blades.  I had always thought of them as _my_ scissors, but as I looked at them, I realized that they'd been on the ship a lot longer than I had.  Jet had probably purchased them, as Spike never liked to buy sensible things like medical supplies.  They weren't really mine, and I wasn't the only person who ever had used them.  And I realized then, staring at those scissors, that they didn't need me on the Bebop, and they never would.  I had nothing to offer, I was just what Spike always had called me, a mooch, a waste, worthless.  I didn't belong on the Bebop.  And yet, I had nowhere else to go.  What was I to do?

"Faye?" Spike's voice broke my train of thought, and I blinked back the wetness that had been gathering in my eyes, looking up at his mismatched mahogany eyes.  "Why'd you stop?"

"I…did you want me to finish?" I know it wasn't fair to ask him such a loaded question.  He didn't know that I was asking if they really even needed me, if they wanted me to stay, if _he_ wanted me to stay.  "I thought maybe you would just like to do it yourself."  Spike considered me for a long moment, and then he smiled in a way that I don't think I'd ever seen before.  It wasn't mocking, it wasn't cruel, it wasn't sarcastic, and it wasn't fake.  It was warm and friendly and good and everything I'd never associated Spike with.  Not to say that I'd hated him before that.  I never really knew how I felt toward the man with the unruly dark-green hair.  But in that moment, he seemed like a different person than the one I knew, and all at once he was the same.  It was like a layer had been peeled away and I'd seen the totally honest center of what Spike was.  It was a good thing he was the one talking then, because I don't think I could have found my voice.

"I didn't mean that I didn't want you to do it.  I was just saying you shouldn't feel like you're forced to." Spike's smile faded only moments after it appeared, but I'd already filed it away as something I never wanted to forget seeing.  "It's a lot better when you do it, anyway.  Jet was all thumbs, and I never had an eye for small work."

"Thanks." That was all I could say, but I think that I was probably smiling like an idiot for at least an hour after that.  It was probably the closest Spike had ever come to giving me a compliment, and it was one of the few times in all my memory of him that he had spoken to me with sincerity.  Right when I'd been flooded with doubts, it was like Spike had somehow known what was troubling me, and his seemingly clumsy words of praise had been a beacon of hope for me.  It sounds really cheesy, I know, but I couldn't help it.  I had come to expect nothing but teasing and torture from Spike, and when he finally said something nice to me, it was almost too much for me.

That night, after finally coming down from the euphoria I'd been feeling ever since Spike and I talked, I realized for the first time that I was in love with him.  It was something that kind of drifted through my mind as I lay in bed, getting ready to fall asleep.  You know all the random thoughts that go through your mind then, when you're too tired to edit out the extraneous bits of information?  That's when I first realized it, and I think I nearly jumped out of the bed, I was so shocked at the idea.  I got to sleep, though, feeling a bit sad knowing that my feelings would never be returned.  After all, we were barely friends at this point.  Spike couldn't stand me, and all he cared about was a dead girl I'd never measure up against.  It was kind of depressing.

But that's my life.

----------

After I realized how I felt, it didn't make much of a difference in my daily routine.  Seriously, I knew it would never amount to anything, and actually thought it was kind of funny.  The ultimate irony, you know, me falling for a guy that wasn't interested at _all_.  So I decided that I shouldn't act, shouldn't cause any friction or tension or whatnot.  After all, I was enjoying my partially reunited family, since there were still two members missing.  I was happy to have Spike back, and since I knew I was in love with the asshole, it didn't give me such a complex to admit that I liked having him around.  But I didn't want to fuck things up, so I decided to just act naturally.

This mainly involved fighting with him on a near hourly basis.  Sometimes, when he really pissed me off, it was almost as though I couldn't recall why I liked him at _all_ and then out of nowhere, something really stupid like the way he quirked his head at me or how he glanced at me while taking a drag of his cigarette, something like _that_ would make me realize that _this_ was Spike, and I was in love with him.

It wasn't long before I amended that to _desperately_ in love.  I don't think I can be held responsible for this, however, as Spike is extremely hot, and somehow when he's an asshole, and you should be pissed at him, he looks about three hundred times hotter.  And then when he's halfway nice…I won't even get into my pathetic ecstasy over _that_ side of things.  Let's just say I was feeling kind of like I was back in high school sometimes, it was _that_ ridiculous.  I could just see it all being made into a daytime drama all about this slut girl who sees the error of her ways when she meets this bad-ass guy and falls in love with him.  Except, in a television drama it would either end with them all dying, or him falling in love with her too.

I knew the second one wasn't going to happen, and I sure as hell _hoped_ I wouldn't be dying anytime soon, so it wasn't _really_ like a television drama after all, I'm just trying to point out that I was feeling like an idiot, and I wasn't acting much more intelligent than I felt.  Of course, damn Spike would notice this.  The one time he pays attention to me, it's when I'd really rather he not notice a damn thing about me.  Because god, if he knew…I wondered if he'd torture me until I couldn't take it, or just give me a good twenty-four hours to leave on my own.  I knew that I could _hope_ he'd let me go quietly, but that kind of idea was just me trying to fool myself.  Spike thrived on my pain, and I knew better than to expect mercy from him.

He knew _something_ was up, however, and let me just tell you that it's really unnerving to have the person you're secretly in love with sit there and stare at you like they're trying to figure out what it is that's got you acting all weird.  Basically, my nerves were already shot from trying to act natural in the first place, and the fact that he _still_ knew something was up and was trying so hard to figure it out on his own was pushing me over the edge.

An explosion was brewing, and I was powerless to stop it.

I know, you're thinking that I sound really overdramatic about how I was getting a bit more moody than usual, but you have to understand what it's like to have your emotions in total control and to _know_ that pretty soon, someone was going to set you off without even realizing that you were ready to blow.  Now, the worst part of this was that I was so pissy, I could have cared less if this was true or not.  In fact, I kind of looked forward to the moment where I could let go and take out all my pent up frustration and tension on whoever set me off.  Especially since there was really only one person who _could_ set me off, and in my opinion, he was responsible for my frayed nerves in the first place.

The only part of it that I disliked was that I couldn't really tell _when_ I'd go off and lose control.  I mean, Spike and I still fought about mundane shit all the time, and I treated it like so much of my routine.  Every time he said something or did something to set me off, I wondered if this time, it would be the last straw.  But it never was, and it was starting to make me nervous.  I started to think that fighting with Spike had become so routine for me that it was no more irritating than any other little thing, like having to wait for my coffee to brew in the morning, or being perpetually unable to keep track of a lighter for an hour before I lost it.  I was really starting to _need_ to let loose.  It was like some sort of release for me, and I was only getting angrier because of the fact that I couldn't reach the point where that tense rope inside of me would snap and let me get back some semblance of calm in my life.

And then I had a really shitty day, and I finally did reach that point.  Looking back on it, I'm a little embarrassed, but at the time I was too angry to care about how I must look to everyone else.  I think that I knew I was about to lose it from the moment I woke up and found that Ed and Ein had returned while I was sleeping.  This in itself did not upset me, and it might have pleased me just a little bit had the circumstances been different.  As it was, I nearly fell out of bed, as I oftentimes did when I first woke up (I'm not much of a morning person) and saw that on the floor, there was a very familiar Welsh Corgi with one of my white boots latched firmly in between his steadily chewing teeth.

"What the hell?" I grumbled.  I was angry, but not awake enough to shout at this point.  It struck me as bad that my boot was being destroyed, and good that Ein had returned, but beyond that, I was utterly baffled as to what I should do.  "Drop it, Ein." I knew the dog was a genius, so if he didn't drop my shoe, I'd know that he was mad at me for some reason, or just feeling like he wanted to be kicked.  Lucky for Ein, common sense told him to let the shoe go and trot out of the room just in case I realized how angry I should be about his behavior.  Still confused and mildly irritated, I walked out of the room in my bathrobe as I did every morning, heading to the kitchen to start the coffee brewing before I took a shower.

"You're up." Spike nodded to me as he nursed a steaming mug of coffee as he sat on the couch with his feet on the table.  Now, usually Spike didn't wake up until after me, which suited me just fine because even though he would make coffee so that I didn't have to wait for it, he also took a shower before me if he got up first, and he always made sure to use all my hot water.  I spared him a roll of my eyes to indicate that I didn't _care_ that he was eyeing my robe in a way that seemed to indicate that he was amused at having ruined my chances at a hot shower.

"Don't talk to me before I get my coffee." I snapped at him as I walked past.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you." Spike nodded toward the kitchen.  "Ed's back."

"So?"  What did I care that she was back?  That had nothing to do with my current top priority, to get a hot cup of coffee and take my time drinking it so that maybe the hot water supply would have a chance to be replenished.

"She wanted to make you coffee." Spike offered me an amused grin.  "It didn't turn out."

"Oh jesus." I felt the slight tension that was forming in my muscles increase at that damned cheeky grin.  "What happened?"

"Faye-Faye!  I'm back!" Ed came barreling out of the kitchen before I could get an answer, but the brown stains all over her shirt gave me an idea.  "Did you miss me?"

"Ed…what did you do?" I tried to keep my voice calm, and I think the fact that I managed not to sound as though I was three seconds from strangling the strange girl was a good measure of how happy I was to see that she had returned to the Bebop.

"Oh…um…I had an accident." Ed looked contrite, and as that was a rare enough occasion, I was immediately alarmed, brushing past her to gape at the disaster that had taken place in the kitchen.  "I was making the coffee machine _better_ but it didn't work out.  I think I added too much power.  Don't worry, though!  I'll make a _new_ one!"

"G…great." My lip twitched slightly at the sight before me.  Everything was covered in still dripping coffee, and where the machine had once stood, comfortingly offering the promise of fresh caffeine to all those who saw it, there were only a few scraps of unrecognizable plastic and glass.  Further debris littered much of the kitchen floor, and I wondered at the fact that Ed didn't seem to be injured.  Turning to confirm that she didn't have any bits of glass embedded in her legs, I saw her disappearing from the room looking a bit less exuberant than usual.  It seemed that she understood at least slightly how important coffee was to me.  But she wasn't there for me to get angry with.  There was only one other person in the living room at the moment, and the way he was sipping at his own cup of coffee suddenly seemed to be the ultimate insult to me.

"You should see the look on your face." Spike chuckled slightly, leaning back and cradling his hot mug between two hands.  "Priceless."  He sighed then, looking at where I stood, still incapable of speech, but the fury within me must have been visible by then in my trembling fists and my clenched jaw.  However, Spike didn't seem to notice this, and if he did, I don't think he realized exactly _how_ angry I was at the moment.  "I warned you, though.  You know Ed.  That's why I got my coffee _before_ she could make it 'better.'  Some things just aren't worth risking."

"Spike…I really…hate you right now." That was all I managed to grit out, but I think that it's admirable that in my state, I didn't shout.  Yet.  I was being really fair with him.  He still had a chance to save himself or escape.  He could have offered me the last of _his_ coffee, and though it wouldn't have made my morning any better, I suppose it would have softened me up.

"Jealous?  Well, I thought of getting a cup for you, but this is just so much more fun." Spike teased me then; obviously not smart enough to realize that this was not a good plan.  I was about five seconds from making an attempt on his _life_, and there he was, egging me on.

"Spike…I think…I'm gonna take a shower now." I was barely holding onto my control at that moment, stomping out of the room as though I could assuage my anger if I made a loud enough noises.

"Good luck, I don't think there's any hot water left!" Spike called after me as I opened the bathroom door and witnessed the shambles he'd left it in.  I was so close to killing him…so close.

"I hate him…" I growled, tossing my robe to the floor and climbing into the shower for one of my record one minute showers that managed to be so fast not because I was skilled, but mostly because I was freezing my ass off and didn't want to suffer any more than I absolutely had to.  I had thought when I stepped into the shower that maybe there'd be just a little hot water left, and that I'd be feeling better when I got out of the bathroom.  Perhaps Spike would not have to experience my wrath just yet.  But no.  Freezing cold.  I hated him so much.

"Hurry up, I need to use the bathroom!" there was impatient knocking, and the last voice that had a right to lodge any complaints with me reached my ears.  I believe that this was when I began to see red.

"That's it!" I shrieked, barely throwing my damp robe on before I opened the door and lunged at the surprised and slightly fearful looking Spike Spiegel.  "Bastard!" I reached for his throat, snarling viciously as I felt myself lose control of my anger, kicking angrily as he barely stopped my hands from reaching their goal, holding them tightly by the wrists and trying to avoid getting injured by my madly scrabbling fingers.  At that moment, I was very glad that I took the time and care to keep my nails long.  Now if I could have only reached his face, I would have scratched his eyes out.  "Let me go!" I cried out in frustration.  I'd landed one good kick in his shins, but after that initial strike, he'd recovered from his shock and held me back far enough that I wouldn't be able to kick him again.  Of course, there wasn't a lot of room in the hallway, so he'd ended up pushing me against the wall in his attempt to get me away from him.  If I levered myself away from the wall just right though, I knew I could kick him again.

"Faye…what the fuck?" Spike was obviously alarmed at my sudden burst of violence, but I could have cared less what he thought at that point.  Pushing back against the wall with a rolling motion of my body, I kicked at the same time, hitting him squarely in his previously injured thigh.  Judging from the look of pain that flashed across his features, it was still pretty sore.  "Dammit!  That fucking hurts!" he cursed as he took in my momentarily smug grin at having overcome his hold just enough to inflict further damage.  I was still scrabbling against his hands, trying desperately to reach him when he suddenly did something that I didn't expect at all.  He pressed his body against me, effectively trapping me against the wall as he pinned my hands on either side of me.  "Calm down!" he ordered, and even though the contact had been unexpected enough that I was momentarily confused and a little less forceful in my struggles, his words incensed me further, and I was again fighting him with everything I had.

"Get off me!" I snarled, my entire body writhing and bucking against the irritatingly resistant barrier that held it in place.  Now, you have to realize that I wasn't actually thinking this whole thing through before I acted, so I didn't even _realize_ that my robe was coming loose as I struggled until the odd look Spike was giving me finally registered in the part of my brain that was still observing my surroundings as usual.  I'd seen that look before, but never on _his_ face.  It was then, as my anger suddenly started to dissolve under the force of my rising shock at the situation that I realized how close I was to being entirely naked, my cleavage more than partially visible in the gaping opening of my robe.  Besides that, I'd been wriggling against him in anger, but I suddenly realized how all the bucking and writhing could have been easily misinterpreted.  Especially by a guy.

"Stop…that." Spike ground the words out, and I could have sworn there was the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.  I did as he said, but not because he told me to, but because of the fact that I was extremely embarrassed and more concerned with trying to cover my barely concealed chest than exacting my revenge at the moment.  However, that was a bit of a challenge considering the fact that I currently couldn't really move or use my hands.

"Let go." My voice shook slightly, but considering the fact that Spike was currently looking at me with that _look_ in his eyes, I think I did a pretty good job of keeping myself calm.  I'd never seen that look in his eyes before, and even though I'd tried to imagine what it might be like in some of my more pathetic moments, the way his real eye was swirling in contrast to the unchanged artificial eye just made it that much more intense.  I'd known Spike for almost a year, and this was the first time I'd seen that look coming from him.  It was exciting, but at the same time, the way he had me pinned against the wall scared me just a little bit.  In my previous experiences with Spike, he was a very nonchalant guy, and it was very difficult to get him to display honest emotions.  So far, my only successes had been basically limited to anger, and in those rare moments when I made him cross the line between irritation and outright rage, I'd learned that once you actually got Spike Spiegel to be honest, it could be just a little bit frightening how strongly he displayed his emotions.  More than once, I'd thought that some ill-timed comment on my part would end with Spike throttling me to death, even though he'd actually never hit me.  He had once thrown a spoon at me, but it had scared me much more than it had actually hurt me.  Also, once he'd returned to himself, Spike had been so ashamed at the violent outburst that he'd apologized to me.  I definitely remembered the apology, as it was something I rarely got to hear from him.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I had suddenly realized that I was pinned to the wall by a man who was looking at me like he might throw me down and take me whether I wanted it or not, and since the man was Spike, I didn't doubt that he just might do exactly that.  As I said, it was exciting, but it was also really scary to think that I had just inadvertently caused him to even _consider_ forcing himself on me.  But then again, if he couldn't even bring himself to _hit_ a woman, could he really bring himself to just take her?  Without asking?  I didn't really believe that he would, and even though I knew the effect I had on most men, I knew that Spike wasn't _like_ most men.  After all, this was the first time he'd looked at me with that thoughtless, lustful look in his eyes, and it was so unexpected that I froze, only struggling slightly before I realized that all my wriggling had been what started this problem in the first place.  And that's when I felt something very hot and very hard pressing into my stomach insistently.  I wished at that moment that despite all my past knowledge of men and their bodies, I could have fooled myself into thinking that was a perfectly innocent gun barrel or something that was just barely digging into the top of my hips.

And then, before I could repeat my request to be released, or even decide exactly what I should _do_ in this new, wholly unexpected situation, he bent down the slightest bit, and suddenly his lips were on mine.  

*****

The End (Of Part 2, That Is)


	3. No, Really, Stop Being An Ass

Bwahahaha!  Cliffhangers are so cool sometimes.  Anyway, I'm back with the conclusion to that scene as well as various other scenes…so yeah.  Sit back and enjoy as I try to write an entire chapter in one sitting.  Why would I do that?  Cause I'm a freak with no life, obviously.  My friend just told me she thought I spent _way_ to much time on fanfiction, considering it's not in any way something that is helping me to succeed in life or…whatever.  Um, yeah, whatever.  I'll write until my fingers fall off or I get sick of it, and so far, neither of those things has happened, so here we go.  As an additional note, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Jade, who coined a certain term that is used several times in this chapter.  Here's to you, imouto-chan!

*****

One More Try

Part 3

*****

He tasted like coffee and cigarettes mixed with a sharp sort of tang that I couldn't quite place.  It was a lot like what he smelled like, so I wasn't entirely surprised, but I wasn't so much worried with the flavor of the man as I was with the fact that he was still pressing against me, his mouth hot and hungry on mine as I felt his tongue press into my mouth as though I had offered no resistance whatsoever.  And then I remembered that I was in _love_ with this man, and it didn't make sense for me to resist this, as it might be the only thing I'd ever get from him.  But still…something about it wasn't right.  I knew it, and I was still a little frightened, so I turned my head away, stopping the kiss before it could go any further.

"Stop it!" I whimpered slightly, and I think that the fear in my voice must have hit some nerve within him, because he suddenly let me go, jumping back and looking completely shocked at what had just transpired.

"Shit…Oh jesus, shit."  Spike sounded so lost, so utterly confused, that for a moment, I totally forgot that he'd pretty much been rape-kissing me about ten seconds ago, and my heart went out to him.  However, I did have the common sense to close my robe more securely before I spoke this time.

"Spike…it's okay." I told him, stepping forward tentatively, one hand reached toward him in an attempt at comfort.  I'd never really _had_ to comfort him before, so I wasn't sure if he'd want me to touch him or not.  "I'm fine."

"What the hell…is wrong with me?" he looked down at me, and his face was so tragic, that any anger I had about what had just occurred was immediately ignored for the time being.  "I don't know…what the hell…"

"It's okay, Spike." My voice was firmer this time, reaching up to touch his face softly with my fingers, the contact a bit unsure.  "Nothing happened.  We were just…fighting."

"I fucking kissed you." He said this with such disbelief that it almost struck me as though he were disgusted by the idea.  "Why the hell…Jesus fucking Christ…"

"Spike…I'm sorry." I don't know why I apologized, but something about it all made me feel guilty, as though I'd done something terrible in attacking him, in turning him on, in letting him kiss me for even a moment before I pulled away.  Maybe the fact that I'd been a bit sad when the contact broke…maybe that's what made me feel guilty.  Whatever it was, I could feel tears rising in my eyes, so I turned and practically flew the short distance to my room, slamming the door behind me.  I couldn't face him just then.  I still didn't know why _I_ had been the calm one after what had happened.  I mean, he'd just forced himself on me, if only for a brief moment before I'd pulled away and he'd regained his senses.  I should have been hysterical, but I just kept hoping that Spike wasn't too upset.

After all, what did _he_ have to be upset about?  Was _I_ the one that got all turned on by our fighting?  Was _I_ the one who got that _look_ in my eyes?  Was it _me_ who had kissed him without permission?  I think not.  And I'd been perfectly innocent in the whole incident.  I was trying to rip his eyes out, sure, but that was completely unrelated to the current issue we were faced with.  And why did he have to sound as though he'd _hated_ kissing me?  After all, he _had_ started it, and I was a completely unwilling participant.  _I_ should have been disgusted.  And maybe if I wasn't completely in love with him, I would have been.  But that was beside the point!  I hadn't led him on intentionally at all, and he'd kissed me for _no_ reason, and now he was all upset and _I_ was supposed to apologize?  I think _not_.

However, once I'd had time to think all this through and had decided that I was _not_ sorry since I'd done nothing wrong, it was too late to think about this as I had already apologized.  Damn it all to hell.  And somehow, I was convinced that Spike had _tricked_ me into apologizing right away without thinking it through so that later he could claim that _I'd_ forced myself on him instead of it being the other way around.  Or maybe he just wanted to be able to escape without apologizing since I'd already made it seem like _I_ was the one at fault.  Damn, he was a lot trickier than I thought.  I'd have to watch out for that in the future.

So then, after all that shit with the kiss, I was back to being angry at Spike.  Funny how after so much had happened, I ended up right where I started.  At least Ed and Ein were back, even though they seemed to bring destruction and disorder _with_ them.  Ed didn't really tell us exactly why she had returned, but I figured in the end that her absentminded father must have left her behind once again.  I suppose she was lucky to have some other family to go to if for some reason the Bebop split up again, but she was still young, so I didn't really begrudge her that.  And after the coffee incident, I was pleasantly surprised the next morning when Ed actually _had_ made a brand new coffee maker.  Even though it looked a bit odd, it did work rather well, so I didn't have anything to complain about.  And Ein's brief encounter with my boot hadn't actually done much to the worn leather.  Apparently, Ein doesn't have very strong jaws, and he hadn't really drooled on the footwear, so after a quick bit of attention from a soft rag, it was almost as good as it had been.

So that left only one person who I had unresolved issues with.  And damn him, Spike seemed to think the best course of action with the whole kissing issue was to pretend like it had never happened.  And believe me, he's a _terrible_ actor.  I kept catching him staring at me when he thought I couldn't tell, and even though he'd been doing that _before_ since I'd been acting kind of weird, I was pretty sure this was something different.  So one day, I decided to ask.

"Do I have something on my face?" I looked up at him, tilting my head slightly in irritation at the interruption to my peaceful fingernail painting.  I still held the wet brush poised and ready over my left hand, but the feel of Spike staring at me from the chair across from me had finally gotten to be irritating enough that I brought it up.  "Do I?" I repeated after he didn't respond, except for to give me a blank look as though he didn't know what I was talking about.

"No." He answered, still looking a bit confused.  As though that stupid act would work on me.  I already _thought _he was stupid.

"Then stop staring at me." I told him, going back to my previous task.  I had just finished my left hand when I glanced up, and what did I see?  Spike staring at me.  Again.  After I told him to stop.  Apparently, it was too much to expect that he'd at least have the courtesy to _listen_ when I tell him to do something.  Or not to do something…aw, damn, you know what I mean.  "Spike, stop it." I told him, my voice a little bit sharp.  At this point, he wasn't really very high on my list of favorite people in the world.

  
"What?" he snorted, obviously upset at being caught staring twice in five minutes.  "I thought you _wanted_ people to stare.  That's why you act so obnoxious and wear those slutty clothes."

"Spike, you are _banned_ from staring." I told him irritably.  "You are also banned from making comments about my appearance, Mr. Rape Kiss."

"Mr. Rape Kiss?" Spike had the audacity to look completely bewildered at this point.  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think?" I glared at him before trying to finish the task at hand, carefully painting my right thumbnail as I continued to speak in a bitter tone.  "You're the one who tried to cram his tongue down my throat."

"Oh, like you didn't like it." Spike snorted again, and I forgot all about my fingernails.  "That hardly counts as a kiss."

"What?  Exactly what counts as a kiss then?" I wanted to know.  "Does the girl have to participate?  Cause that was all that was missing from _that_ one."

"You weren't part of that?  Really?"  Spike stood, and I realized that at some point, I too had gotten to my feet.  "Cause it seemed to me like you were rubbing yourself all over me."

"It _would_ have seemed that way to you." I luckily didn't clench my fists at that point, as it would have completely ruined my nail polish, and that would have really pissed me off.  "I was only trying to get away from you, crazy asshole."

"Now _I'm_ the crazy one?" Spike stepped past the table almost as though it wasn't there, trying to use his height to intimidate me.  It was one of his oldest and least effective tricks.  "You fucking tried to jump me just because I kicked you out of the bathroom.  What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Okay, first of all, I did not _jump_ you!  I was going to kick your ass because you were pissing me off!  And second, you definitely _shouldn't_ have rape kissed me.  That's all I'm saying." I told him angrily.  He'd been so different right after the kiss, and I couldn't believe how much he had changed his opinion on it all in barely a week.  Dirty asshole.

"I never fucking rape kissed you!" Spike protested.  "You were totally asking for it!"

"Yeah, like you're asking to have your face smacked right now!" I pointed at him threateningly to show that I was definitely willing to do it.  "Don't fucking deny it!"

"Then don't pretend you didn't want me to do it!" Spike shot back.  "I didn't get any fucking resistance from you!"

"Yeah, cause I was fucking scared shitless!" I snarled angrily. "And as soon as I realized what was going on, I pulled away!"

"Some time to act coy." Spike snorted at this.  "Since when did you have any self respect?"

"Since when did you want to kiss me?" I shot back.

"I didn't want to!  I wasn't thinking straight!" Spike argued.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, it was all me!" I was furious now.  How dare he insinuate that he'd had no part in the kiss when he'd clearly been the initiator _and_ the only one who seemed to want to be involved in it?  "You're just pissed off that I pulled away!  You really can't handle rejection, can you?"

"Like you've ever rejected _anyone_ in your whole fucking life!" Spike was obviously angry.  He just kept playing the Faye's A Slut card over and over again because he knew it would piss me off.

"I sure as hell rejected _you_!" I stomped my foot angrily.  "Rape kisser!"

"Fucking whore!" He shot back, stepping toward me so that I was forced to look up at him.  I hated it when he pulled that shit.

"You know what, just knock it the fuck off!  _You're_ the one who kissed me, and I don't care if I hurt your fucking pride or whatever!" I stomped again, more loudly this time.  If I couldn't be taller, I'd definitely be louder.  "Just back off, okay!"

"What the hell is going on out here?" Jet came in then, with Ed right behind him, looking as though she'd rather not get between Spike and I at that moment.  Not that I could really blame her.

"He started it!" I insisted immediately.  Okay, I know it sounds childish, but fuck, I was pissed off, and I wanted someone to agree that _I_ was right and Spike was wrong.

"Whatever, slut." Spike sounded angry, but not nearly as bad as he'd been before Jet came in.  He always tried to make it look like I was just some crazy woman who'd gone into hysterics for no reason.  Bastard.

"Are you two done?" Jet wanted to know.  "I can separate you if that's what it takes."

"Oh, that'd be a fucking tragedy." I snorted.  "Although Spike might be upset.  Apparently, staring at me is his new favorite hobby."

"I wasn't _staring_ at you!  I was just trying to figure out why you're such a fucking whore!" Spike was immediately as angry as he'd been before Jet came in.

"Yeah, such a whore that I wouldn't fucking kiss you back, rape kisser!" I shot back.

"Don't talk about that shit in front of them!" Spike was obviously embarrassed, and I couldn't have been more pleased with the situation.  "You're the one who started that anyway!"

"Yeah, of course, blame it on me!" I was so frustrated that I brought up the one thing that had always been sure to make Spike lose his temper.  "You couldn't have been kissing someone on your own since you're so in love with your dead fucking girlfriend!"

"Don't fucking talk about Julia like that!" Spike's face went through three different shades of red in the space of about ten seconds.  "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure she's dead, and it's obvious you're fucking hung up on her, so I don't see what part I missed." I was a bit calmer now that I'd gotten to Spike.  It was so nice to be the calm one.  "Maybe how you go around rape kissing your crewmates?  Ed better be careful."

"Faye!" And there it was, the side of Spike that only came out when I pushed him just a little too far.  Oh, I was sure that Vicious had seen him angry plenty of times, and maybe even the almighty Julia had witnessed it, but these days, it was pretty much just me.  "You fucking bitch!  What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"Spike, calm down."  Jet had seen Spike angry before, since he was always breaking up our fights.  However, he clearly didn't want to have to fight with angry Spike.  I couldn't blame him.  It wasn't a very tempting prospect.

"What the fuck do you know, anyway!" Spike was really shouting now, the way he only did when he obviously wanted to kick my ass, and the only thing that held him back was some ingrained sense of honor that told him not to hit women, even if they were only slutty crewmates.  "You fucking whore!"

"I know that that day, you fucking _wanted_ me!  And I wasn't Julia, and I didn't remind you of her, but you still wanted me.  And now you're all fucking pissed because I didn't want you to fucking rape me in the hallway?  Well thanks for thinking about _my_ feelings, you fucking prick!" I didn't hit him, even though I wanted to.  It wasn't a very good idea to hit angry Spike.  "I don't want to talk about this right now.  I'm leaving." I announced, storming out of the room.

And as far as _I_ was concerned, I won that argument.

----------

"Faye, could we talk about something?" Jet's voice caught me by surprise, and I nearly dropped my coffee at the unexpected request.  Sure, Jet was close to me, and I'd hate to see him hurt or anything, but we didn't have a lot of communication in our relationship.

"Um…sure."  I supposed that I could spare the man a few minutes.  After all, he did keep the shower working, not to mention my Redtail.  And he'd probably saved my ass a couple of times with some quick thinking, so I didn't think it was too much to ask for.

"We don't talk much." He began.  Okay, thanks for the understatement of the year, there, Jet.  "But this is kind of…well, I try not to get involved in some things."

"Yeah." I prompted, sipping my coffee.  I hoped that he'd get to the point.

"This thing with you and Spike though…it's kind of getting out of hand." He offered me a smile that looked more than a little forced.  Obviously, he was incredibly uncomfortable with the topic.  That made two of us.  "I really…don't want to know what happened with this whole…rape kiss thing.  But can I ask you to do something for me?"

"What is it?" I was more than a little relieved that he only took the father act so far.  There was no _way_ I was telling him all the gory details of the Rape Kiss.

"I know that Spike pisses you off a lot." Jet began.  "He's an asshole, and he doesn't seem to give a shit about anything.  But he really does care about you."

"Yeah, he cares if I take all the hot water or not." I snorted, taking another sip of coffee.

"I've known him for a long time.  Trust me on this one." Jet patted my shoulder, and I shook my head slightly.

"Whatever.  So what do you want?" I asked.

"Just…don't bring up Julia when you guys are fighting.  I know you want to get him just as mad as you are, but it's such a pain in the ass when I have to stop him from ripping the ship up afterward." Jet shook his head, and I recalled the black eye that was still fading away from the vestiges of the nail polish fight, as I'd come to call it.  "Also…I don't know if you really understand what it's like to have someone you really care about die…but she's only been gone for a few months now.  It's still really hard for him.  He cries sometimes."

"I know." I admitted.  Yeah, I'm an eavesdropper, I know.  It had made me feel more than a little bad to hear him in his room after the nail polish fight.  That night he'd cried himself to sleep, and I felt like I was going to vomit I was so guilty over it.

"Spike tries really hard to keep himself under control.  It's because he doesn't want to ever hurt you, Faye." Jet explained to me.  Somehow, I wasn't entirely convinced of his reasoning, but sure, if he thought it made his argument more convincing, I could see why he'd lay the guilt trip on me.  "Don't push him, okay?"

"Tell him not to push me." I was a bit angry that Jet thought everything on the ship would get peaceful if I just let Spike talk trash to me without ever fighting back.  Great fucking solution.  Men never think shit through.

"You know he wouldn't listen if I tried." Jet gave me a knowing look, and I nodded slightly, agreeing to do as he said.  "Thanks, Faye.  I really hate to get involved, but you understand, right?"

"Yeah, he shouldn't be bringing you guys into it." I sighed and sipped my coffee again.  "He could have hurt Ed if she'd gotten in his way."

"Yeah." Jet nodded, looking pleased that he'd completed our little talk with no major mishaps.  "You know, Faye.  I think you'll be good for him, in the end.  Even if he doesn't see that yet."

"Um…I gotta go." I didn't even want to think about what Jet had just said.  I mean, I wasn't angry at Spike anymore, really, so I was kind of back to just being in love with him.  It made me wonder if Jet could tell how I felt, and if _he_ could see it, how long before Spike would figure it out?  This was all starting to be a lot harder than it had seemed in the beginning.

----------

"You are such an idiot." I told the man who was lying on the couch and passively letting me treat the wounds he'd come back to the Bebop with.  "What made you think you could go into a bar and start a fight with a bunch of guys that were ten times your size?"

"They weren't ten times my size…only twice." Spike defended himself as I sterilized another cut and bandaged it.  "And I _did_ start the fight, so I don't see what the issue is."

"The issue is this." I poked a large bruise that was forming on his ribcage.  "I'm going to have to bind this."

"Don't fucking poke it." Spike hissed.  "That hurts, you know."

"Yeah, well that's what you get for being a dumbass."  I told him, getting out my binding gauze.  "Sit up so I can bind your ribs."

"You're the worst nurse I've ever had." Spike told me in a voice that wasn't really very convincing.

"Want me to get Jet out here?  Or Ed?  Cause I can." I gave him a look that told him I'd be happy to have him off my hands.

"No…that's fine." Spike wasn't even _trying_ to fight with me.  It was actually a bit disappointing.  "You're doing fine."

"Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence." I snorted before wrapping his ribcage carefully and then clipping the bindings in place.  "So seriously, why'd you do that?  Go out and get your ass kicked like you could care less what happens to you?"

"I don't know." He shrugged.  It wasn't very convincing, that was for sure.  Like I said, he was a _horrible_ actor.

"It hurts a lot, doesn't it?" I had my suspicions about what he was hoping to accomplish by getting himself beat to a pulp.

"No, it's not that bad." He tested his ribs with a warily poking finger.

"Not your ribs, idiot." I rolled my eyes.  How stupid could one man be?  "I mean…since she's gone."

"Who?  Oh…you mean Julia?" Spike's face was immediately so sad, I wondered if maybe talking about it had been a bad idea.  "It's…kinda hard."

"You miss her a lot?" I prompted.

"No…not like that." Spike scratched the back of his head as though trying to think of the right words.  "I just…I never got to see her that often.  But I thought that maybe when we were older and she was ready…"

"You wanted to have _kids_ with her?" I was admittedly shocked at the idea of Spike having kids at all.  With anyone.

"No!  Maybe…yes…I don't know." Spike shook his head.  "Anyway, it was always there, you know?  Like an option.  But now she's dead…it's so hard to think about how I'm never going to see her again."

"You know," I felt like maybe what I was about to say would give me away to Spike, but maybe he was so lost in his own problems that he wouldn't think it through too thoroughly.  "When you left to go after Vicious, I thought you'd never come back."

"I told you I'd be fine." Spike gave me half a smile then.  He didn't really like having us worry about him.

"Not really…and you just seemed so ready to die.  That fucking cat story scared the shit out of me."  I admitted.  "I was sure that was it, the last time I'd ever see you.  And I was desperate to keep you there for just a little longer.  I pulled my gun on you, for god's sake.  But you left anyway, and I wanted to hate you for that.  But I couldn't.  All I could think was 'there goes the most important thing in my life.' And it was so fucking depressing.  Jet thought you were done, too."

"You guys…I knew I'd be fine." Spike's smile was a bit more genuine this time.

"Anyway, the point is that when I thought I'd never see you again…I really wanted a picture of you, but I realized we never really took any, and Jet didn't have any either.  But then I realized that even if I had a piece of paper to remind me of how you looked, it wouldn't be the same as having you.  And I was so scared of never seeing you again that I wouldn't even suggest that you might be dead.  Not until after I found you alive." I told him.  "When you opened your eyes…I almost started to cry."

"Sometimes…I wish I had died then." Spike admitted.  "Maybe then I could see Julia again."

"But if you died, we'd all be left to miss you." I told him.  "So just…could you please be more careful from now on?"  I thought that he'd laugh at the request and tell me I was being stupid, but instead he reached forward, putting his hand on my cheek softly.

"Okay." He said.  And with that, he left the room.

I loved that man so much.

*****

The End (Of Part 3, That Is)


	4. Let's Get Spike A Counselor

Okay, I thought that I'd made it apparent that Spike would be a bit…off in this fic since um…his girlfriend just _died_ and all that, but apparently I was too vague on that point, so I guess I'll just have to be a lot more redundant in the future.  Thus the specially written intro which basically just sums everything up…again.  Yeah.  You can skip it if you want, but it's kinda a good look at Faye's perspective on it again, but sure, whatever.  So hopefully, after this, if I hear someone telling me that Spike is being too emotional or whatever, I can tell them to shove it up their ass cause it's pre-established.  Unless you think he'd be _happy_ that Julia died and he went and killed his former best friend.  I'm willing to listen to counter arguments on the topic, but as I've heard none that tell me _why_ he should still be a nonchalant badass all the time…

*****

One More Try

Part 4

*****

There was a pretty strongly established daily routine on the Bebop, strange as that may seem considering the dynamic lifestyles of bounty hunters, but that's how it was.  That's why we were all pretty sensitive to anything big that might happen among the crew, as it tended to upset that routine.  Julia's death definitely had that effect, and the fact that Spike was changing his routine and acting differently as he tried to deal with his grief cause a sort of upset amongst the entire crew.  Okay, so mostly the thing of it was that I'd come to rely on Spike's predictable moods and habits, and it really bothered me when things shifted.

He was spending an unprecedented amount of time in his room, and not only that, his door was almost always _locked_.  The fact that he was physically denying us entry to his room when he usually only used it for sleeping, and even then he sometimes crashed on the couch…well, it was a bit strange, and more than a little suspicious.  So I decided to _investigate_ this issue…okay, so I sat outside his room with my ear pressed to the door, but it was all out of perfectly understandable concern.  I didn't spend long hours eavesdropping, but it was actually pretty boring.  He didn't seem to be doing _anything_ in there, so why the locked door?  And then, one afternoon, I heard this strange snuffling noise, and even though it was hard to tell, I figured out that when he locked himself in his room, he was spending his time away from us to grieve for Julia, and that I was actually bearing witness to Spike Spiegel _crying_.  And as unbelievable as that sounds, it was the truth.  He never let himself get loud about it, so I wouldn't have known if I hadn't spent so much time eavesdropping, but every once in a while, he'd go to the bathroom after having a good cry, and even though he looked perfectly normal to someone who didn't know any better, I could _tell_ that his eyes were just a bit red, and I knew it wasn't from our mutual bad habit of smoking.

At first, it was strange to know that Spike, who had always struck me as very nonchalant and aloof, cried on a regular basis.  I mean, it's not like he did it every _day_ or anything, but the fact that he'd do it up to twice a week…that was a big thing for Spike.  He was obviously very broken up about what had happened to Julia, and I sometimes wondered if perhaps he held lingering regrets of Vicious' death.  After all, they _had_ been best friends for some time before that whole problem with both of them sleeping with the same inadvertently manipulative woman.  Yes, it was all very enlightening for me.  Spike could actually _feel_ things so strongly that he would cry.  I suppose that I must have suspected as much.  After all, as I've said before, he was a very passionate man once you got him to admit his feelings to himself so that he could release them.  I can't even count the number of times his anger has scared me half to death even while it was strangely satisfying.  And of course…there was the infamous Rape Kiss.  So I guess I was aware of the _intensity_ of his emotions, but I just never thought that he could have quite so many.  I'd basically limited the Spike Emotional Spectrum to anger, lust, and maybe the occasional moment of supreme happiness, probably at _my_ expense.  I never thought of him feeling sadness, of him grieving and feeling regret.

After all, this was the man who had insistently told _me_ that I shouldn't linger in the past, and that such things didn't matter.  Of course, I was already aware of his hypocrisy in this respect because of the whole Dead Julia/I'm Going To Kill Vicious scenario, but I never thought he would hold onto the past so tightly.  And then he started getting hurt.  On purpose.  Now, I realize that I go on and on about how careless Spike is, and how he just doesn't care if he gets killed, but I mean that in a complete jest.  This was serious.  I started to believe that Spike was actually _hoping_ that one night, he'd pick a fight with a bunch of big guys and he just wouldn't come out of the bar alive.  Too bad for him that he has that ridiculous ability to survive things that would kill almost anyone else.  Oh well, it was nice to know that he'd keep coming home again, even if he was somewhat the worse for the wear, but I would have preferred it if he only got his ass kicked on occasion, when he really was accomplishing something in the process.  It's not that I _liked_ having to fix him up all the time, but it would have been strange if Spike was suddenly so cautious that nothing bad _ever_ happened to him.  It would have worried me just as much as the bar fights were.

He was talking to me more, also.  It was weird, but I actually enjoyed that part of things.  I think that's the only reason I was able to make an attempt at pinpointing the source of his destrcuctive behavior as I bound his injuries one night.  And then I got him to agree that he'd stop it, and silly me, I actually believed things would get better after that.  But what happened only one week later?  I'll give you _one_ guess.

"Faye-faye's up late." Ed observed as she looked up from Tomato's screen for a brief once-over of the living room, her adopted bedroom since there weren't enough sleeping quarters for all of us and she didn't seem to care.  I sometimes wondered if she _actually_ slept.  I'd seen her napping a couple of times, but I was unsure about the whole concept.

"Yeah, Spike's out." I told her, sighing deeply.  I think that of all the crew members, I actually had the _least_ trouble talking to Ed honestly.  It was probably due to the fact that I didn't really believe she'd go telling Spike everything I said, and beside that, we _were_ both girls…if a little bit far apart on the spectrum of femininity.  "I wanted to stay up until he got back.  If he's out fighting again, he'll just wake me up as soon as he gets back anyway."

"Maybe Spike-person likes you to stay up." Ed suggested, sounding as though she was making a completely offhand comment.

"Why?  So I get pissy and yell at him?" I joked, snorting slightly.  Spike would probably think that was a good plan.  What that man did for fun…

"When Ed was at the shelter, the Sister-lady always stayed up if one of us was gone late." Ed explained as though this was exactly the same.

"Um…what does that have to do with anything?" I was a bit confused.  This was why I avoided intellectual conversations with Ed.  She thought in a way that I just couldn't follow.

"Ed liked Sister-lady.  She made good food." At least she was sitting in one _spot_ while making utterly no sense at all.  It was hard enough to follow her when she was a little mellower, as she was right then.  It was impossible when she was displaying the boundless energy that she seemed to always have in secret reserves.

"Yeah, well…that's nice." I decided to not put too much effort into trying to figure out the logic behind what Ed was saying, so I just rolled my eyes and pulled out a cigarette, looking around for my lighter, which of course, I couldn't find.  I was convinced that lighters had some vendetta against me, and refused to stay put whenever I tried to keep them for longer than an hour.  "Shit…" I muttered.  Where was Spike when I _really_ needed him?

"H…hey." I heard the shaky voice and looked up to see Spike stumbling in.  It struck me as odd that I hadn't heard him land, but then again, I had been occupied trying to understand what the hell Ed was talking about, so it wasn't that surprising.

"So." I stood up, forgetting my cigarette and resisting the urge to run over and check the limping man for wounds right away.  "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing." He was obviously drunk, and you should know that it takes quite a bit of liquor to make Spike _obviously_ drunk.  He also seemed to have something wrong with his right arm and there was a bruise forming across his left cheek.

"Yeah.  I bet." I stepped forward, meeting him on his way to the couch, reaching up gingerly for his bruised cheek while rising up on tiptoes.  "You were fighting, weren't you?"

"Whaddya think?" his words were slightly slurred, and I pursed my lips before turning my attention to his arm, pulling at his jacket to see if I could get a good idea of what the problem was without forcing him to take it off.  "Leggo."

"Come here." I pulled him to the couch and sat him down.  Ed, I noticed, was watching us with boundless fascination, as though this was more entertaining than anything else she could think of.  "I thought we talked about this." I was more than a little upset.  He had as good as _promised_ me he'd stop doing this sort of thing, and it had only taken a week for him to break that promise.

"It wasn't my fault." Spike offered me a grin, as though that would make anything better.

"Yeah, I'm sure that you just fell, and your fists happened to land on some guys' chins or something like that?" I pulled at his jacket insistently until he took it off, grumbling slightly and flopping back in the couch.  I left the room momentarily to grab the medical kit as well as to give myself a few moments to calm down.  There was no reason to get so upset about a dislocated shoulder and a bruise or two.  Spike had suffered far worse before, and this was in no way a life threatening condition.  But the fact of the matter was that he had definitely told me that he wouldn't go around picking fights anymore, and he was still doing it!  Sure, he'd cut back for a few days, but he was still back to square one at the moment.

When I came back to the living area, Ed had returned her full attention to Tomato, and Spike was dozing lightly, as though he were trying to sleep off all the liquor he'd taken in.  "So, how many guys this time?" I asked, my tone clipped as I sat down and started rubbing his shoulder to loosen up the muscles enough that it wouldn't hurt so bad when I snapped his arm back into it's socket.

"That hurts." Spike pouted.  Only when he was drunk did Spike truly pout.  It was pretty funny.  "Don't rub so hard.  Can't ya do it nice?"

"I don't know." I responded.  "Can't you go a week without getting your ass kicked?"

"That guy _deserved_ ta get beat up." Spike informed me.  "Asshole."

"What'd he do?  Look at you?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"He was…this tall." Spike told me, lifting his left hand for me to see how far above his own head the man had stood.  I was unsure as to whether he was trying to impress me with the size of the man he'd fought with, or if I was supposed to take the man's size as the reason for the fighting in the first place.  "An…he had friends…five…no…maybe three…I dunno."

"Spike, I should just lock you up." I told him, deciding that he could take the pain of having his shoulder reset.  With a sharp yank and then a well-aimed pressure, it popped back into place.  I remembered when I used to think resetting shoulders was difficult, but it seemed so long ago.  "You'll get yourself killed one of these times, and you won't even care."

"Well…nah much I can do if I'm aready dead." He pointed out in his inebriated tone.  He had winced when I set his shoulder, but Spike didn't remember pain for very long when he was drunk.  It was convenient for me that way.

"Don't you care?" I chastised him, making his jacket into a temporary sling until his arm felt better.  "Or do you want us to be as miserable as you are right now?"

"Mmm…I dunno." Spike seemed a bit confused as well as slightly amused by this idea.  Not that I was terribly surprised, considering the fact that he was drunk.

"Go to bed.  I'll bring you some ice for your face." I decided that it was time for the conversation to end, as it obviously wasn't going anywhere.

"Don…tell me what ta do." Spike spent some time getting to his feet and then looking as though he was about to simply fall back over, but he did manage to start walking toward his room in short, misguided steps.  I decided that if he ran into the wall, it would serve him right, so I let him continue as I went and made a quick ice pack for him.  As I went back through the living room, Ed addressed me once more.

"Spikey came back!" she jumped over Tomato so that she could cut off my path for the moment.  "Is Faye-faye glad?"

"No, I'm pissed off." I told her.  "Stupid man went out and got himself beat up again."

"Maybe cause of Faye-faye." Ed explained, though it was hard to take anything she said seriously when she was doing a handstand and looking up at you through her bangs.

"I'm sure.  I think the only thing he does because of me is take up all the hot water in the morning."  I told her before moving past her and taking the ice pack to Spike's room, where he had collapsed on his bed, utterly ruining my sling as he lay right on his damaged arm.  I sighed slightly before entering the room more fully.  The lights weren't on, but you could see well enough thanks to the light in the hallway.  "Doesn't that hurt?" I asked the lightly dozing man as I prodded his side to try and get him to roll on to his back so that I could put the icepack on his cheek.

"Unngh." Was the only response he gave me, moving slightly but not rolling over at all.

"Come on, Spike.  Your arm'll hurt like hell if you sleep on it, and I need to make sure your face doesn't get swollen." I informed him, maintaining my calm demeanor reasonably well.

"This…snothin." He grumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow he was speaking into.

"I'm sure.  Now roll over before I _really_ hurt you." I lifted one leg to knee his side firmly.  It wasn't like I was _kicking_ him, I was just trying to get my point across.

"Stop it." There was no fight in his response, and it was only moments before he had rolled over and was looking up at me groggily.  "Crazy fuckin…ummm…"

"Bitch?" I supplied helpfully as I sat on the edge of his bed and tried to re-sling his arm.  Of course, this was a losing battle, so I finally settled for laying it up across his chest before I pressed the icepack to his cheek and settled down to wait for him to fall asleep.  That should be long enough that it wouldn't swell up terribly the next day.  "Just do me a favor and go to sleep."

"What…cha worried?" his voice was intended to be challenging, but it came off more as confused.  He was reaching for my face and I ducked out of the way of his hand, as it looked like he couldn't properly judge the distance and might just end up poking my eye out.  "Ya got…hair." He pointed, indicating the bangs that had fallen across my eyes.  I smiled slightly, using my free hand to brush the strands away.

"Thanks." I reached down with the same hand, straightening Spike's own bangs as well as I possibly could.

"Your hands…cold." He closed his eyes at my touch.  "Feels good."

"Little hot?" I asked, pressing my palm to his forehead.  He was a little warm, but it was likely only the liquor.  "How's that?"

"Better." He answered, sounding content and almost sober.  I didn't bother to mention that the icepack on his cheek was probably a lot more cooling than my hand on his forehead.  Instead, I decided to treat myself to a few moments of intimacy, or at least some semblance of it.  Curling my fingers, I edged them back through the curly head of hair, combing through the thick strands slowly.  Spike rumbled slightly, and I assumed that he was expressing his approval of the situation since he was still relaxed and utterly unresisting.

"Your hair is soft." I told him, my voice becoming gentler now that we were getting along for the moment.  "I never thought it would be soft."

"Julia…liked my hair." He was halfway asleep, and I don't think that he was really thinking about what he said before he said it, but I could hear the regret in his tone, the utter sadness, and I realized that Spike would always love Julia, even if he got over her death, it would always be with him, and he would always miss her.  I wished in that moment that he would care about me half as much.  That would make me feel as though my life had really been worth something.

For the time being, however, I satisfied myself with the feel of Spike's hair under my fingers as he slowly fell asleep.  Shortly afterward, I stood to leave, even though I didn't want the moment of contact to end.  At least I could know that I didn't disgust him totally.  That was something.

----------

"Feeling better?" I asked, my tone remaining admirably neutral as I sipped my coffee from the couch where I was bundled in my bathrobe and addressed the man who was just stepping out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel around his waist.  I pretended that I couldn't see the slightly swollen bruise under his eye and waited for an answer.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spike grumbled.  He was always terribly grumpy when he had a hangover.

"You were in fine form last night." I teased him as he trudged through the living area on his way to the kitchen, obviously on his way to the coffee maker.  "The aspirin's behind your coffee cup.  I thought you might want some." I raised my voice slightly as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"God…I don't even remember how I got home last night." Spike returned to the living room, taking his customary spot on the couch, not caring that he was sitting right next to me with his dripping hair, wearing only a towel.

"Oh, don't worry." I smiled wickedly, taking a slow drink of coffee.  "Buck seemed like a nice enough guy.  By the way, he left his phone number."

"Wh…very funny, smart ass." Spike shook his head slightly, obviously wanting to avoid any really sudden movements.  "So…any reason my arm hurts like hell?" he asked.

"You came home with a dislocated shoulder.  I did my best, but you ruined my sling, so it's your own fault."  I told him pointedly.  "How's your eye?"

"Not too bad." He reached up and touched it gingerly.  "You ice it down?"

"Yeah." I sipped my coffee again, looking at the liquid as though it was extremely fascinating.  "Spike?"

"What?" he asked me, his tone unreadable.

"Why do you do it?" I asked, trying to keep the serious concern out of my voice, but I could tell I wasn't doing a very good job.  "I mean…do you seriously not care what happens to you?"

"Look," Spike had turned to face me, even though I was still pretending to stare at my coffee.  "I told you I'd be careful.  I just…last night, I got a little drunk.  That's all."

"But I thought…" I began, but he cut me off, impatient with my concern which was, apparently unwanted and unappreciated.

"Look, you don't have to stay up late waiting for me like some nagging mother."  Spike's voice was harsh, and I suppose that after the previous night, I had expected at least a bit of graciousness from him.  "I'm not a fucking baby."

"I know you're not a baby!" I slammed down my cup, spilling warm coffee over my hand and not caring.  "I don't think it's fair that you're mad at me for being concerned about you!  You're the one that's a fucking drunken brawler!  I think I have _reason_ to worry about you!"

"I'm not a fucking drunk!" Spike argued, wincing slightly at the pain the volume was causing his already throbbing head.

"Then what do you do almost _every_ fucking night?" I wanted to know.  "Look, Spike, I understand that you're all broken up about Julia, but it's been almost six months!  That's half a fucking year!  You can't keep doing this shit!  I refuse to be your fucking nursemaid!"

"Then just leave me alone!" Spike stood up.  "I was just fine without your help!"

"Fine!" I sat back, crossing my arms.

"Fine." He stormed out of the room, slamming his door behind him.  I was full of righteous anger at first, but when I heard his lock click shut, I began to feel a bit guilty.  Spike was going to cry now, I was almost positive.  That's what I had decided he did when he locked himself in his room.  Added to that, it had been my fault for bringing up Julia, just as I'd told Jet I wouldn't.  He had been impressed with me when I agreed to leave the subject of the dead woman alone.  He'd said that I'd be good for Spike…What would he say now?

I was so immature.  I was no better than Spike.  When it came to arguing, I'd snatch at anything that would hurt him, anything that would get a real response.  I had started the conversation knowing that Spike was still very sensitive on the subject of his dead girlfriend, but I had still let myself become angry, had let myself rub in his face that very thing that had been causing him so much pain.  What was _wrong_ with me?  I told myself that I was in love with him, and yet I couldn't stop myself from hurting him in any way that I possibly could.

Standing up, I decided to do something utterly unprecedented.  I was going to apologize to Spike.  Without being told to.  It was somehow difficult to make myself move across the room and down the hallway to his door, but it was even more difficult for me to raise my fisted hand and knock on that door weakly.  I felt sick to my stomach, as though there was no torture worse than what I was forcing myself to do right then.  Or was I simply sick from guilt at how I was treating Spike?  Whatever it was, I wanted to get it over with.

"Spike?" My voice trembled, annoyingly enough.  I hated sounding weak and unsure of myself.  "Can I come in?"

"Go away." For some reason, that muffled response made me feel like I really _was_ some nagging mother and Spike was my deviant child, and the thought brought the briefest amused grin to my lips, but as soon as it was there, the thought flitted away and I was licking dry lips, placing a hand on the door as though I could reach him.

"Spike?" I repeated.  Would he really force me to do this in the hallway?  Where _anyone_ could hear me?  I was sorry, but I didn't think I was _that_ sorry.  "Just for a minute?"

" Why?  So you can bitch at me some more?" his voice was bitter, angry, and for once, I wasn't pleased at my ability to garner an emotional response from him.  I just felt that much worse about the things I'd said to him.

"Spike…please." Something about my tone of voice must have told him that I was actually being sincere for once, and it must have impressed him, because a few moments later, the lock clicked open and he turned the knob, allowing me a view of him in his undershirt and boxers.

"What is it?" His voice was a bit rough, and I realized that I must have been right.  Perhaps he _had_ been crying.  And it was all my fault.  Somehow, the idea of making him cry didn't strike me as the good thing I had thought it would be.  So, he cared about what I said, and I had taken a cheap shot and struck at the one thing that could even _possibly_ make him upset enough to cry.  I felt like the biggest bitch in the universe.  And knowing that he'd even _maybe_ been crying…I didn't even think about what I was doing, but suddenly, I was lunging at him, my arms wrapping around his torso and my face pressing to his chest as I hugged him tightly.

And once I was there, with my arms around him, I couldn't just let _go_.  That would make it utterly obvious that I was not planning to hug him in the first place, and then I would be forced to let Spike witness me blushing.  I despise blushing even when no one can see it, so I refused to let Spike witness my embarrassment.  So instead, I decided to just apologize and get the hell out of there before he could think of what was happening.  "I'm sorry, Spike.  I didn't mean it."  There.  That hadn't been terribly hard.

But then I encountered a problem, an unforeseen hitch in my plan to apologize and run off.  First of all, I was decidedly distracted by the smell of Spike's skin and the surprising softness of his worn shirt under my cheek.  This kept me in place for far too long, and then when I was finally in control of my faculties enough so that I could have made my escape, his arms suddenly cut me off, wrapping around me as his face pressed into my hair.

Oh my god.  I could have died happy right then.  Spike was hugging me.  On purpose.

"Sokay." His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke into my hair, but I could have cared less if he was capable of speech at all at that point.  I certainly wasn't able to make _any_ noises whatsoever, though I might have been able to manage a surprised yelp if I had really wanted to.  What the hell was going on, anyway?  Had I stepped into some strange bizarro world where Spike hugs me and accepts my apologies without rubbing my nose in the fact that I had done something wrong?  Weren't we supposed to be yelling at each other right then?  Shouldn't we be shooting childish insults back and forth until Jet stormed in on the scene and broke things up before someone was injured?  I would have pinched myself, but I did _not_ want to risk ruining everything by letting go of him.

I wanted that hug to last forever.  It was the sweetest, purest thing I'd ever shared with Spike…no, with _anyone_ in my entire life, and I never wanted it to end.  Of course, something was bound to interrupt us at one point.  This thing happened to be a redhead wearing spandex and an old shirt.

"Faye-faye and Spike-person are hugging!" she was obviously excited at this very rare spectacle, and I couldn't blame her.  After all, it wasn't something that had ever happened before, but as soon as we heard her, it ended, both of us flying apart.

"Ed…did you want something?" I asked her.  _I_ wanted to strangle her at that moment, but I suppose we can't always have what we want whenever we want it.

"Spike and Faye!  A bike in May!  That likes to neigh! A pike's in the waaaay!" and with that, Ed ran off.  I glanced up at Spike, but as soon as I felt my cheeks heating, I left his room and went to hide in my own.

I was so in love.

*****

The End (Of Part 4, That Is)


	5. Faye, Pay Attention To What You're Doing...

Aaah, finally, I'm all done with finals, all done with packing…all done with college!  For the summer, at least…yeah, well, I'll enjoy it while I can, that's for damn sure.  So thanks for your patience to those of you who didn't totally harass me about the update thing since I _did write in my profile that I wouldn't be updating this last week due to finals.  To those of you who did harass me…oh well, I can understand why you'd be upset, even if I am usually so good about updating…sigh, I feel sometimes like if I just stop updating, I'll get hunted down or something…burninating the countryside…sorry, my imouto has it stuck in her head and she keeps singing it and it's not making it easier on me…gah._

*****

One More Try

Part 5

*****

After The Hug, I gained some hope that maybe…just maybe, Spike could have some sort of feelings for me as well.  At least, I had to revise my earlier decision that he just hated me, as he seemed to think I was pretty okay.  I mean…he did hug me, after all.  It was such a good hug, too…

"Faye, what's with that look?" Spike's amused voice interrupted my thoughts, and I shook my head, blushing slightly as I concentrated on the all important task of pouring my third morning cup of coffee.  It had been a few days since The Hug, and I was still on cloud nine, which showed how incredibly pathetic I was about the whole thing.  Not like you could really blame me, though.  I mean, I'd been lusting after the man for _so _long, of course I'd be ecstatic to receive a little attention from him.  "If you don't watch it, you'll pour coffee all over your hand."

"Oh shit!" I'd let my attention wander again, and I barely avoided spilling all over myself in my shocked jolt as I realized that my cup was about to overflow.  Tilting up the coffee pot sharply, I still sloshed some of the hot liquid over my hand, and with a sharp cry, I spilled the mug and then dropped the whole pot, stumbling backward and tripping over my own feet as the pot thankfully fell the short distance to the counter without breaking or tipping any further than it already had.  Just as I opened my mouth, shocked at my burned hand and about to fall on my ass, an arm swept up behind me and caught me.  Of course, since it was my third cup of the morning, Spike and I were already fully dressed, so at least I didn't have to worry about any more robe incidents.

"Damn, Faye.  You should just get back in bed if you're gonna be like that."  Spike teased me, and even though my hand should have been hurting me, all I seemed to care about was the fact that his arms were suddenly around me.  Again.  And even though he looked like he was ready to start laughing at me, his face so close to mine…it was almost too much for me.  I couldn't think of anything to say, so I only offered a weak laugh.

"Come on, stop staring like a dolt." He teased me, pushing my body back upright so that I wouldn't fall if he let me go.  "Seriously, are you fucking drunk or something?  You're acting like an idiot."  I felt more foolish than ever at that moment.  Of course he didn't feel the way I felt.  Just because he'd shown me a little kindness…that didn't mean anything.  But then again…

"I'm…fine." I told him after a few moments, feeling very ashamed at my inability to say anything clever.

"You sure?  Cause you've been walking around all distracted for days now.  It's fucking weirding everyone out.  See?" Spike pointed to the doorway where Ed was peeking at us, completely silent but with a look of utter fascination on her face.  "And Jet wanted to know what the hell _I _did to you.  Like I have any control over how women act and what the hell they do." He grumbled, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring two mugs, one for me and one for him.  He handed me mine, and I took it, surprised that he was doing _anything for me.  After all, in the past I could barely get two nice words out of Spike Spiegel, and now he was pouring me coffee and acting concerned over me.  Well…kinda concerned._

"Shit." I hissed as I let both hands encircle the cup, absently forgetting that I had coffee burns all over my right.  In fact, there was still coffee dripping off of it, and that made me feel like such a dolt I almost started blushing.  Again!  I had found that lately, there was something wrong with my blushing controls, and that Spike's nearness only exacerbated the condition.  Maybe if I had hidden away in my room for longer, this wouldn't be such a damn issue, but there I was, trying desperately not to blush, and still feeling the blood move up higher in my face.  Setting down the coffee, I went to the sink and busied myself pouring cold water over my burn.  It wasn't too terribly bad, just a patch of red skin where the coffee had spilled, but I knew it would sting for a few days.  As I sat there, cursing my stupid inattention, Spike moved over beside me, setting down his coffee and reaching for my burned hand, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Let's see that." His voice was strange, almost gentle, and I felt my heart flutter at the unexpected attention.  "Pretty stupid, burning yourself with coffee.  How the hell you expect us to go out after the next bounty and come back alive if you can't even pour your fucking coffee right?"

"I was…just…" somehow, it was hard to come up with a good comeback when I was too busy concentrating on the way his fingers brushed gently over the burned flesh, resting on my wrist and holding it gently, drawing it up toward his face.  I made a soft noise then, a protest or an expression of shock, maybe both, maybe neither.  There were so many emotions swirling inside of me at that moment that I could hardly tell _what_ I was feeling.

"Here, the first aid kit's under the sink, right?" He tugged me forward slightly as he bent to open the cupboard under the sink with his free hand.  He didn't wait for an answer, which was fine, since I was utterly speechless at that point.  I managed a slight croak of affirmation just as he found the kit and rummaged through it, pulling out an ointment bottle and shifting his hand on mine so that he could squeeze some of the cooling gel onto my burn, rubbing it with one large thumb as I stared up at his face in amazement.  He was looking down at my burn with a concentrated look on his face, and I was sure he was making a conscious effort to be gentle.  What was happening?  First…the hug, and now this…it was too much for me.  I didn't know what to think.  I'd been so comfortable in my spot, simply thinking that Spike would never want me, would never willingly approach me, and would never show any interest in me.  But then there was the rape kiss, and ever since then, he'd been acting so strange, I could hardly believe it was the same man anymore.  "Better?" he asked, giving me a small smile as he looked up from my hand.  I was struck by his eyes, always so fascinating in their asimilar coloring.  It was hard to think which one was real and which was fake when he was just looking at me like that, but when I recalled the kiss…the way he'd looked then…the left was definitely fake.

"I'm fine." I told him, my voice slightly shaky as I reached for the coffee I'd set down and let my hand fall short.  There was no way I was going to pull away from Spike right now, from the way that his thumb rubbed gently against the inside of my hand and somehow, that innocent seeming touch was enough to make my throat close.

"You sure?" there was a swirl of something in his real eye then.  Concern, I think, but I was too busy trying to not let my knees shake visibly to try and spend too much energy interpreting his emotions overly well.

"Uh…yeah." I gulped.  Something about his eyes was so intense, I couldn't help but pull back in fear, or maybe in surprise.  What was up with him lately?  Was Spike Spiegel actually interested in the infamously slutty Faye Valentine?  Would he really want someone like me?  His eyes told me yes.

"Ed's got some info on the new bounty." Spike straightened up then, and it was like nothing had just happened between us.  It was a relief, but also a bit of a disappointment.  "Don't you, Ed?"

"Yep!" the redhead didn't seem bothered by the fact that Spike knew she had been watching us the entire time, but at the reminder of her presence, I had to fight back another round of insistent blushes.  "The silly hacky-man can't hide from Tomato!" she declared happily, racing off to the living room as though she assumed we would naturally follow her.  Taking another gulp of my coffee, I did so with Spike right behind me.

"Ed's got new information on the new bounty." Jet informed us as we joined him on the couch.

"Yeah, we were just coming to check it out." I responded, feeling a bit more comfortable in this much more familiar situation.

"Here ya go!" Ed, sitting at Tomato, picked the computer up and set it on the coffee table and presented us with a profile of our target.

"Steve Jorkins, also known as the Millipede, a highly rated hacker who's rumored to have pulled off more than a few top level jobs, wanted for interfering with the Interplanetary Justice Files, tampering with several records, transferring funds from—"

"Yeah, okay, we know he's a fucking criminal." Spike interrupted Jet's recital.  "Let's get to the point."

"Ed got a lead!  She traced his encryption and found out that he was not so smart as he wanted to be!" Ed jumped up in front of us, typing furiously to bring up a new file.  She was still smiling brightly, but there seemed to be a bit of competitive spirit coming out of our young hacker, which seemed perfectly natural considering the circumstances of our new bounty.  Ed thought tracking hackers was the "most fun."  Go figure.  "See!"

"Oh man…not a fucking trashy mine field refugee." Spike groaned as he noted the small map and the coordinates that Ed suspected of being the home base of our target.  "Ed, are you sure he's staying in there?  Cause I damn well don't want to go bumping around a mine field of abandoned ships if I don't have to."

"Ed is positive!" Ed assured us.  "Five times Ed caught Millipede sending out an encoded signal, but Ed broke his encode and found him five times!  So this is where he is."

"Good work, kid." I offered her a slight smile, even though I was with Spike on this one.  I definitely hated mine fields.  "Looks like we're going on a little trip.  You with me, Spike?"

"Like I trust you alone." He snorted, standing and stretching.  "Well, let's get moving Jet.  You can drop us off at the edge."

"Way ahead of you." Jet told him.  "We'll be ready for you two to move out in an hour if you're up for it."  I sighed, drinking my coffee quickly.  I hated mine fields.  What a pain in the ass.

----------

"Okay…according to these coordinates, Millipede should be near where you guys are.  Just look around for a suspicious looking dead ship, okay?" Jet's voice crackled slightly over the communication line.  Mine fields always seemed to cause interference with outside communication as well as being a general pain in the ass to navigate or find _anything_ in.

"Spike, what do you say to just randomly picking one of these junk buckets and getting started?" I suggested.  It seemed like a good plan to me.  After all, with dead ships, you can usually never tell what's going on _inside_ until you board them, and then you can't be sure if you're going to have any warning before the bounty figures out that you're there…overall, it can be a bit dangerous, but I try not to think about it too hard.

"He's in that orange one." Spike answered me, making off for the nearby ship as I had no choice but to follow.

"What?  How would you know?  I don't see anything suspicious about that one." I asked over the communicator.  I hated when Spike pretended to know everything.

"Got a hunch." He answered, which was about what I'd been expecting.  He was a big one for "feelings" and "hunches" and all that.  I called it guesswork; he called it his sixth sense.  Sixth sense my ass.  He was wrong just as often as he was right, but I never heard the end of it when he was right on the first guess.  I hated that crap.

"Okay, let's do this." I was tempted to add a degrading comment onto that, but I knew it wouldn't really accomplish anything to start a fight when we were supposed to be catching a bounty.  I wondered vaguely how dangerous this hacker was supposed to be.  We were already prepared for our arrival in the mine field, suited up for the conditions of outer space.  I pulled a helmet on after docking the Redtail next to the Swordfish, and opened my hatch, pushing off quickly to catch up with Spike, who was already at the entry hatch to the ship, waiting for me impatiently with his gun drawn.  I pulled mine out of the convenient holster and gave him a nod.  The suits had communicators installed, but we didn't need to talk every second of the mission.

"You head left." He told me as he turned the opposite direction once we'd gone through the pressurizing chamber and returned to the normal gravity of the ship's internal chambers.  I wanted to smack Spike.  The artificial gravity told us for sure that we'd found our man, but of course, he'd wait until later to rub it in my face.  As I headed down the passage, careful not to let my footfalls become too loud, I held my gun up at the ready.  At least if I found the guy, I'd have something to say for myself later.  I hated it when Spike took all the credit.

And then I heard a rapid clicking, as though someone was working on a computer, and I grinned confidently, heading down the side hall that led toward the source of the noise.  Technically, I should have told Spike that I'd found the target, but of course, I was so sure that it would be an easy catch that I determined to get him myself and then give Spike a hard time about it for a good week or so.  That was standard gloating period, I figured.  Although…I suppose if I had been paying more attention I would have noticed that the clicking had stopped, and I would have been a lot more cautious when I kicked the door in.  As it was, I found myself face to face with a panicky looking geek boy, and before I could even warn him to put his hands up, he'd tossed something tiny and seemingly harmless at me, but as soon as it hit me, there was a flash of bright pain and fire, and then my world went black.

----------

Pain.  That was all I could feel at first, pain.  I was aware that it was very dark, and it took me some time to realize that this must be because of the fact that my eyes were closed.  I decided that I'd better open them and see what was going on.  Was I still on the Millipede's ship?  If so, I needed to warn Spike…had to tell him that the kid had a few tricks up his sleeve.  After all, it was all very fine that I'd been duped, but if the kid got Spike, we might lose our bounty and have to limp back to the Bebop empty-handed.  Nothing pissed me off more than getting injured and losing the bounty.  It was like adding insult to injury.

"Her eyes are moving." It took a moment for that voice to register as Ed's, and then I realized that I already was back on the Bebop.  As my eyes cracked open, I saw Spike sitting over me, and unless I was delirious from the injuries, that was concern etched in his features.  Ed's face was out of my immediate vision, but as my eyes fluttered open to try and get a better idea of my surroundings, I saw that I was on the couch with Ed perched on the floor near my head, hugging Ein with worry as she watched Spike and me.  "Faye-faye?  Are you dying?"

"No." I was awed at the horrible croak in my voice, but I didn't have much time to think about it before Ed was jumping up, running into the kitchen and squealing excitedly.

"Faye's aliiiiiive!  In a bee hiiiiiiiiive!  Full of chiiiiiives!  In a biiiig seiiiiiiiive!" the song was ridiculous and wholly an Ed creation.  I tried to chuckle, but it came out as a gurgling noise that was completely foreign to me.

"Don't try to talk now." Spike told me firmly, and my eyes widened slightly at the tone of his voice.  He really _was concerned, it seemed.  Odd, I couldn't recall this ever happening before.  Of course, I wasn't apt to being nailed with explosives while we were out trying to catch a bounty._

"Millipede…did we get him?" I croaked slightly, but my voice was becoming a bit more clear now that I was using it.  "How long was I asleep?"

"Yeah, we got him.  Don't worry, you can have your share as soon as you can walk." Spike teased slightly, his hand moving up to my face and brushing a few strands of my hair out of the way.  "You've been out for about three days now."

"Really?" I could hardly believe it.  Three days?  I'd never been hurt that badly before in all the time I could remember.

"Yeah, scared us shitless." Spike told me, and the slight waver in his voice was enough to scare _me as well.  This was Spike at his most unsure, at the most vulnerable I could ever remember seeing him without him being drunk.  It was terrifying in its own way._

"You're up?" Jet's deep voice distracted me for a moment, and I turned my head slightly despite the pain.  I could see that he was relieved to see me awake, and though it was nice to know that everyone had been concerned, it struck me that Spike seemed to be the most affected by what had happened to me.  "Spike was having a fit before.  Wouldn't let anyone near you."

"I was _not having a fit." Spike corrected, his tone impatient as he gave Jet a dark look.  "I just didn't want anyone fucking around with you while you needed to rest."_

"I'm fine now." I assured him, even though the pounding in my head told me that I was most definitely _not fine.  "I could…maybe use an aspirin or something.  My head kinda hurts."  At this, Spike reached over to the coffee table where I saw that he'd emptied the first aid kit and had all its contents scattered over the table in a haphazard mess.  Typical Spike organization skills.  After some hesitation, he found the aspirin and turned toward Jet._

"Get her some water." He ordered, as though they should all be waiting on me hand and foot.  I couldn't help but be a bit surprised at how he was acting.  It was so…strange.  And for some reason, I suddenly realized that I was blushing.  Damn him all to hell.  Oh well, maybe he'd just think I was exhausted from the exertion of turning my head and talking.  I'd rather have him think that than believe that he'd witnessed me blushing.  "Faye, you're warm.  You feel okay?" he pressed a hand to my cheek as he waited for Jet to return with the water.

"Oh…um…just a little tired." I looked down to try and get an idea of the damage I'd suffered.  I hoped I didn't have any scars.  That would really damage my career.  However, though I could feel that I'd been hurt, I couldn't really see past the bandages that were wrapped around parts of my legs, my arms and…my chest.  Suddenly, my blush returned full force.  "Um…did you…treat me?" I asked, somehow hoping that it had been Jet that had bound my chest in the large portion of gauze that covered my breasts more effectively than my usual outfit did.

"Yeah, I figured it was time to return the favor." Spike answered, and I noticed that he was avoiding my eyes.  Apparently, he knew why I was so concerned about the healing issue.  That did not make me any more comfortable.  Just then, as we were finding separate spots on the wall exceedingly fascinating, Jet came back, holding a glass of water and wearing a long-suffering look.

"So, was it worth the bounty?" he asked, trying to hand me the glass, but having it intercepted by a vicious looking Spike.  What was _with him anyway?  Seriously, I could understand that he was feeling the need to fix me up or whatever, but it wasn't like I was going to die if one of the other crew members touched me._

"How much did I get again?" I asked Jet, ignoring the way that Spike was trying to tilt my head up and doing it for myself.  I appreciated the concern, but I wasn't a _baby_ after all.

"Five million." Jet told me, obviously trying not to laugh at the silent battle that was currently going on between Spike and I.  As I tried to pull myself up, Spike tried to hold me down while also tilting the water down toward my mouth.  For some reason, he seemed to think that I would be able to drink it perfectly well if I was flat on my back, but I think that he was only holding me down because I was trying to sit up.  Stupid Spike.

"Totally worth it." I answered, but as soon as I opened my mouth, Spike tilted the cup the rest of the way and I choked and spluttered, squirting a mouthful of the liquid all over Spike and myself.  "God!  What are you trying to do!"

"Drink it!" Spike insisted, tilting it further.

"I need the aspirin _first, dumbass!" I twisted my head away, trying to avoid having him pour the water down my throat again, but I ended up just getting a faceful of water.  "Asshole!  Dammit!"_

"Well, looks like everything's back to normal." Jet stood, leaving as Spike and I continued our struggle.

"I'm just _helping you!" Spike pulled the glass back and opened the aspirin bottle, shoving a pill at me forcefully while trying to hold me in one place._

"I can do it by myself!" I countered, twisting away and almost falling off the couch.  "Holy…fuck!" I discovered at that point that I hurt.  A lot.  And that twisting off the couch didn't help me feel better.  "God dammit…it hurts!"

"Then let me do it!" He caught me, pushing me back up on the couch and causing me to hurt even _more_.  Yeah, really helpful Spike.

"Don't!  That hurts!" I reached up to smack him, but of course, I couldn't get all the way to him before the burns on my arm made me stop and yelp in pain.  At this point, something seemed to get through to Spike, and he stopped, jumping up and away from me.  "God…asshole.  _You're _the worst nurse ever.  Stupid…ass." I found that I was suddenly ready to go back to sleep and I wasn't really all _that mad at him…especially not when I saw him sitting there looking like a guilty five-year-old that had been caught doing something wrong.  I guess he must have suddenly realized that he was trying to cram aspirin down my throat, and apparently he also realized how ridiculous it was._

"I'm…um…gonna get you some…um…some soup." He managed before racing out of the room.  Great conflict resolution there.  I swear, he was acting like such an idiot lately!  I mean, I know that I wasn't exactly Mensa material, and especially ever since I'd realized I was in love with him, but you know what?  I think that being in love gives you permission to be an idiot!  He had no justification!

Or…did he?  I mean…he did get all embarrassed when we were talking about the whole chest…binding issue.  And then…it always seemed to go back to the rape kiss for me.  Every time I considered how weird and off Spike had been of late, it all went back to that weird rape kiss in the hallway.  And what if I'd let him do it?  Would he have gone further?  Was _that his idea of love?  Because to me, it seemed to be nothing more than some pent up sexual frustration and a healthy (or not so healthy) dosage of lust.  But then…after that, he seemed so different.  It was almost as if kissing me had reminded him of the fact that I _was_ after all, a woman, and if he wanted to fall in love with one, I was right there, completely convenient.  And then…the hug.  God, that still had to be one of the happiest times of my life.  I couldn't be positive, but you know, I was pretty sure that it ranked right up there._

So maybe…maybe Spike did love me.  Or even just really really like me.  And hell, that was good enough for me!  I mean, I'd been satisfied with the formerly hopeless unrequited love situation, so this seemed perfectly grand to me.  Now…if I could just stop being utterly terrified, maybe something could happen between us.  Ever.

*****

The End (Of Part 5, That Is)


	6. Spike Really Is The Worst Nurse Ever

So according to one reviewer, Spike should be an emotionless badass because of the bad stuff that happened with Julia and Vicious.  Now, as much as that might seem to make sense, the whole emotional blockage issue, I'd like to point out that he's already _tried_ the infamous "I don't care about anyone" strategy as anyone who watched the show can vouch for.  And what happened?  Got his girlfriend and his former best friend killed.  Yeah, that worked well.  Let's continue with that strategy, as surely nothing but continued joy and miraculous amounts of good luck shall come from it.  In addition, I think that while he could have become _more_ of an emotionally constipated asshole due to the whole "death of two people that I really cared about," it also could have caused him to realize as he sat there with his dying girlfriend in his arms.  "Man, life is short.  Maybe I should stop wasting it on pretending I don't care."  Because think about it, if he would have been true to his feelings before, he would have spent all his time and energy chasing after the love of his life, and maybe they could have had a bit more time together before her untimely demise.  So I'm saying that while he could have shut off his emotions more, I think that his little outburst of emotion (weird Spike emotions) before he left for some Vicious killing shows that he did _not _decide to simply turn his emotions off.  Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have gone after Vicious in the first place, because if he was not caring about anything, he wouldn't have put himself in mortal danger to avenge Julia's death.  Faye said it herself in that episode "You told me the past doesn't matter!" Spike's made some emotional growth here if he's turning his back on his former carefree lifestyle and chasing after his past.  So that's why I feel like I'm doing a good job of showing how Spike would have continued to act providing he had survived the whole final showdown.  Also, Faye and Jet and Ed are like a little family to him, so while I'm sure he doesn't go telling his sob story to complete strangers, I think a little bit of honesty amongst companions like them is perfectly understandable.  So there.  I'm writing now.

*****

One More Try

Part 6

*****

Do you want to know what it was about that whole Millipede incident that made me feel like the most worthless bounty hunter ever?  It would probably have to be the fact that other than the massive smack on the head that had caused me to be asleep for three days straight, I didn't really get a lot more than some minor burns and cuts as far as injuries go.  I mean, the little explosive he tossed at me was probably only meant as a distraction so he could get away, but lucky me, I'd hit my head and ended up on the couch for three days.  And the fact that such a little thing had totally knocked me on my ass made Spike decide that I was not fit for doing much of anything for the next few days.  Not that I didn't manage to do my fair share toward further convincing him that I was a total weakling.

First of all, I don't think you realize that despite bandages cushioning you slightly, it's _extremely uncomfortable to lay around on your burned body, so unless you manage to find the elusive perfect position, you can't get to sleep, no matter how many times your crew mate annoyingly tells you that you need your rest.  I mean seriously, was he my mom?_

And then I got restless after he'd left the room for quite some time, apparently satisfied that I was awake, so I was in no immediate danger.  Convinced that he would be taking his own much needed rest and not wanting to bother anyone about it, I got up to get myself a glass of water, and while I feel I did an admirable job of regaining my ability to walk without tripping over myself after three days of not moving at all, I immediately cramped up and ended up sort of limping my way into the kitchen and back.  Then, Spike came back and saw me sitting there, rubbing at my sore thighs, and he immediately got very angry that I had been walking around.  I understand that he was concerned, but I don't ever recall banning him to his bed and not allowing him to get up at all.  Stupid Spike.  At least he didn't insist on rubbing my sore muscles for me.  That would've been too much.

Then, I decided that it was high time I take a shower, since I figured that Spike hadn't been all that attentive to that aspect of my care while I was sleeping…well, I hoped that he hadn't, but I wasn't about to ask.  So I got up and hobbled my way in there, feeling stiff from my muscles and the discomfort of my burned skin, but I didn't stop to think that it would really _really_ hurt to have hot water pound down on your skin after it had just been covered in first and second degree burns.  Of course, I'm sure from the occasional yelp and the loud slam when I nearly slipped and fell out of the shower, everyone else on the ship learned that I had just figured that out.  After a few moments of pain so intense tears were starting to spill down my face, I turned the water to almost full-blast cold, and I had a much more enjoyable experience after that.  That didn't stop Spike from giving me a grumpy, put-out look when I came back out of the shower and settled down in my bathrobe to put burn gel on some of the worst patches.

I honestly felt like I'd fallen asleep while sunbathing and was now paying the price.  Sure, I had a few odd scratches that were pretty well on the road to recovery, but other than that, it was all burns, and they all hurt like hell.  At the risk of sounding like a total weakling, I really don't end up getting injured that much on our missions, so the few times I _have_ gotten really hurt, I'm pretty sure that I've felt it about ten times stronger than Spike would have if he had the same injuries.  I mean, he gets pretty pissy when he gets shot but…I don't like to talk about it, but when _I_ get shot, Spike and Jet play rock paper scissors to see who has to treat me because I'm so loud and violent about the pain.  Yeah.  It's not good.

I'm sure I could handle pain if I really had to, but it's not something that I usually have to deal with.  There's a _reason I fight cautiously.  I really don't like getting hurt, and though I can survive well enough, I just…really hate being in pain.  I think the rest of the crew probably hates it too, since I do get kind of cranky when I'm unhappy, and nothing makes me less happy than prolonged pain.  Add to that the fact that Spike was driving me stir crazy by _refusing_ to let me go out and gamble away my bounty, and you've got for one crazy bitch.  Not that I was rabid with anger or anything, but I was definitely a bit…snappish._

"Jesus, Spike, just let her go spend her damn share, okay?" Jet's impatient entreaty showed exactly how sick the crew was of my less than pleasant behavior over the past few days.  I had just been dragged back into the Bebop, protesting at the top of my lungs by Spike, who insisted I was not nearly well enough to be going out on my own.

"I earned it fair and square." I added in my own defense, yanking my still slightly pink arm out of Spike's grip.  I had been almost lobster red at first, but now the burns were healing up pretty nicely, even though I was still always feeling a little overheated and tender.

"That's not the point.  You were half-dead only five days ago." Spike argued, indicating the couch as though I could really recall the time I'd spent on it unconscious.

"I was _not half-dead.  I was just a little under the weather." I insisted stubbornly.  "And you've gone right back out after just waking up from a lot worse injuries!" I pointed out._

"That's different!  I can handle a lot more!" Spike stomped his foot as though that would end the argument.

"Oh!  So now I'm some fucking weakling, am I?" I was immediately on the defensive.  "You know, I'd already be in perfect fucking heath if you hadn't been such a shitty nurse!"

"See!  You're not healthy!  You just admitted it!" Spike jumped at my comment, twisting my words at once to serve his purpose.

"That's it!" Jet's voice boomed out, silencing us as though he were a father and we were two disobedient children.  "Spike, you say she can't go out alone?"

"Yeah." Spike agreed, glad to see that Jet seemed to be on his side.

"And Faye, you want to go out and spend your money?" Jet asked me.  I nodded emphatically, and had to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at Spike.  "Fine, Spike, take her to spend her damn money before you both go crazy from cabin fever and I have to shoot you.  I'm serious, you two are driving me insane."

"But she can't just…" Spike gaped, amazed that he'd been overruled.

"You _said not by myself.  Get your coat on, smartass." I clapped my hands together and went to change so that I could really make a night of it.  "And grab some money!  You're buying us dinner!"  I heard a grumbled reply, but I could have cared less.  I was going out, and he couldn't stop me from having fun even if he was right there with me._

----------

"And then I stole his clothes!" I giggled, feeling slightly giddy as I sipped my drink and watched Spike smile slightly next to me at the bar.  He had loosened up considerably while we were at the casino, and we'd even managed to rake in a fat chunk of change together before Spike _insisted we call it good and leave.  Apparently, he thought that our luck would run out if we stayed there all night.  Silly Spike.  My luck _never_ runs out._

"Did he ever catch you?" Spike asked, taking a sip of his own drink, swirling the glass slightly so the ice settled in it before setting it back down.  After dinner and gambling, we'd decided that it was time to go out for a few drinks before calling it a night.  Spike had brought me to a pretty classy little bar that I'd actually never been to, buying drinks for both of us as we listened to the little band play live jazz and told old stories together.  I think it was probably the most fun I'd ever had with Spike if you didn't count the weird kind of fun I had irritating the hell out of him on a regular basis.

"No way, I'm too good to let some amateur like that catch me." I winked at him, letting my hand drift down to smooth over the skirt of my evening gown.  It wasn't the fanciest dress I owned, but I knew for a fact that _Spike appreciated it from the way he kept staring at me when he thought I wasn't looking.  I knew it would be worth the trouble to get dressed up._

"Wanna dance?" The request came out of seemingly nowhere, but I couldn't turn it down when his right eye flashed at me like that.  So I nodded, cocking my head to the side to try and pretend I hadn't been hoping he'd ask me that for most of the night.

"Sure." I managed to say it in a smooth enough voice, taking the hand he offered me and following him up to the small raised area where a few couples were moving around the floor.  He gave me a mischievous smile, making a sharp movement that brought me into his arms almost instantly, and I smiled up at him in return, giggling slightly and feeling at ease for the moment.  The little band in the corner was playing something a bit lively, and Spike surprised me in his ability to guide me across the floor.  I hadn't really ever thought of dancing as one of Spike's skills, but as he kept leading me through tricky moves that were a bit hard for me to follow, I couldn't help but beam up at him, even laughing slightly as he spun me in and out at the end of the song.

"You're pretty good." He told me, his right eye twinkling still, showing that even if he pretended to be an aloof asshole most of the time, he had enjoyed that dance almost as much as I had.

"Where'd you learn to dance, anyway?" I asked him then.  "I never knew you could do that."

"Oh, you pick things up, you know." His grin was a lot wider than what I usually got to see from him, and I knew that it was probably due to the feel of the alcohol and the happy rush of our night out together that was making him so open and friendly at the moment.  And when the music started again, we didn't return to the bar.

It was a slower song this time, and his smile faded slightly as he drew me in closer, moving us over the floor in a much more reserved manner than before.  I felt as though my chest was suddenly very tight, and although he wasn't hugging me to him or anything like that, I felt almost as though I couldn't breathe as I gazed up into those beautiful, enigmatic eyes of his.  Neither of us spoke or made any noise then.  I don't think we needed to.  He was so close…I couldn't see or smell or think of anything past the two of us, moving over that floor in that little bar.  It was as though we'd somehow created our own little world there on the dance floor.  I was surrounded by his smell, that slight hint of cigarette smoke clinging onto him as always underneath the scent of his shampoo and that musky smell that I always associated him with.  I didn't think about it before I buried my face in his shoulder, taking in deep breaths of the smell that had become, to me, the smell of everything important in my life.  This was what I had always wanted, to be close to Spike, to share a moment with him that was somehow separate from the rest of the world.  And as the song ended and I stepped back, feeling my face heat at how close we had been, I had no time to be embarrassed before his mouth was on mine, gentle while still insistent, tasting just as I had remembered although the flavor was laced slightly with the heady taste of liquor.  And somehow, everything was perfect in that moment.

But  only a little bit after that, he was pulling away and leading me back to the bar as though nothing of interest had happened just then.  Had he not felt what I had out there on the floor?  Had he simply meant to kiss me as a friend might kiss another, and all the romance of our dance…had it all been something that I had imagined?  I wanted to cry out at the unfairness of it all.  Why should I have any idea what my dream could taste like and then have it taken away from me so roughly?  Was Spike trying to torture me?  Did he _know how I felt?  But as we reached the bar, he paid the bartender and said something to me that made all the questions in my mind seem very unimportant._

"Let's go get a room." His voice was a bit shaky, and my mouth went dry at the words, but I knew then that at least I hadn't been the only one that had felt the connection as we danced…when we kissed.  A million thoughts flew through my mind then.  Should I turn him down?  I knew he was drunk, and I was more than a little tipsy as well…but it was so tempting.  And after all, why shouldn't I enjoy what chances at happiness life offered me?  And then I realized that as I had been getting dressed to go out with Spike, this was what I had been hoping for.  I had wanted to get his attention, I had wanted to tempt him.  I had been trying to seduce him, and as unbelievable as it all seemed, I had succeeded.

"Yeah." I agreed, letting him take my hand again and lead me out the door, not caring what the next morning might bring.  I had fought too hard for the joy of one night with him to let questions and doubts ruin it for me.  I knew that even if he was attracted to me, there was no way he loved me the way that I loved him, and this night would probably cause complications and make things between us awkward, but I ignored all those warnings.  I was going to have my night, dammit.

*****

The End (Of Part 6, That Is)


	7. So, You Have Sex Here Often?

Oh, the fateful morning after!  What will happen?  Will all be well, or…not so well?  Seriously though, as stupid as Faye was to place all  her hopes on one night of slightly intoxicated loving, can you really blame her for not being able to turn down a straight up offer of sex from Spike?  I mean, he's really hot.  Yeah.  Oh, and to the reviewer that asked, yes I am home and school is over, but I have a set updating schedule.  Once a week, and that is how it will stay.  I think that considering how bad most authors are about updating regularly, that shouldn't be an issue.  I refuse to update more frequently than that for several reasons.  One of them is that I'm writing three stories at once, and I don't _always just feel like writing, so if I try for twice a week or something like that, you're going to most likely end up with some sub-par writing as I rush to finish the chapters on time.  However, it's pretty much guaranteed that I can finish three chapters from separate stories in a week, so that's part of why I keep it at this frequency.  Also, I may not be in school, but this is the time of year when I work my ass off so that I can afford textbooks for next year, so it's not like I'm just sitting at home doing nothing.  I'm working, really, so cut me a little slack.  In addition, I've learned from the times when I used to just update whenever I had a new chapter finished, when I update once a day, once ever three days even, I get like two reviews.  Is it because I'm dishing out crap?  No, it's because people see that I'm updating anyway, so they figure "aw, screw that, she doesn't need reviews."  I don't _need_ reviews, per se, but I definitely appreciate them, and they really do make me want to write more and continue the story.  So that's why I'm not updating more often now.  I'm not upset at your comment at all.  In fact, about two-thirds of my reviews say something along the lines of "this is good, update now!" so I've grown more than a little used to such requests.  I just thought you might be interested in knowing why it is that I have been keeping the same update frequency even though school's out.  Thanks for all your reviews!  _

Oh, and by the way, a few of you have shown interest in a chapter that shows the…erm, hook-up, as it were.  I could add in something to that effect if you're all really wanting it, but the rating will have to go up, and I really hate having to up the rating, cause it makes the story harder to find unless people are already reading it and know where to go.  If I get enough interest, I'll load an edited version of this chapter some time around…I don't know, like Friday, that gives you a fuller account of things.  Anyway, here we go, the fateful…morning after!  Dun dun dun!

*****

One More Try

Part 7

*****

The next morning, I woke up to the sensations I was most used to feeling after a night out drinking.  I had a pounding headache, and I felt a little nauseous.  Also, I was sprawled out in bed alone.  I could tell right away that it wasn't my bed, and that struck me as a lot stranger than the fact that I was alone, as I almost always woke up alone.  When men only want you for sex, they're not going to stay after they're through to cuddle and sleep in with you.  After a few moments, I recalled all the events of the previous night, and I felt a sinking sensation in my chest as I realized that I had been right in thinking that this didn't really mean anything to Spike.  It was just a one night stand to him, and I suppose I had known as much from the moment he asked me to get a room.

It was a bitter ache to know that I really was nothing more than an easy lay to him, and I rolled over in bed, punching the empty pillow beside me to express my upset, uttering a few choice curses into the bedding that still smelled just like the man who had slept on it.  I pressed my face into the pillow, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as I realized that this was the closest I would ever be to waking up next to Spike.  Grumbling about my queasy stomach and my raging headache, I edged my way out of bed, standing up slowly and shuffling my way to the bathroom.  I noticed with no amount of surprise that although I could easily see my garments strewn across the floor, Spike's were all missing.  Typical.  He probably headed back to the Bebop the second I fell asleep, and now he'd act as if nothing had even happened.  I wouldn't have been surprised if he acted like I was making the whole thing up, but I knew what I was getting into when I had come here with him the night before.  Still, that didn't make it hurt less.

I was aching in so many places I could hardly count them, and I climbed into the shower, just wanting to rinse away all of it.  All the bitterness, the anger, the pain, the hurt.  I turned on the hot water all the way, and even though it blasted me with cold, I could have cared less.  It felt good, in its own way.  At least I could still feel it.  I wasn't just numb to everything as I thought I might be after having my heart broken.  It was almost as though every other pain was dulled by the emotions raging inside of me, but at least the slowly warming jet of water could distract from that, even just a little bit.

I could tell that Spike had already made use of the shower, as it seemed he'd felt it necessary to use almost all the shampoo in the tiny bottle provided by the hotel, but I didn't really care.  It seemed stupid to get mad about something so small when he'd just used me for sex and ran off as soon as he could.  Even that…I couldn't decide if I was angry with him or with myself for being stupid enough to fall in love with him, for letting him have his way with me.  If only I could have held out, maybe I could retain my childish hopes that someday, we could be together.  Now I just felt hurt and more alone than ever.  After a while, I got sick of the sting from the hot water on my flesh, and I turned it off, stepping out of the shower and grabbing the one insufficiently sized towel that Spike had left me.  Why was that man incapable of taking a shower without using up almost everything in the bathroom?  Wrapping the towel around me took some work, and my breasts were practically spilling out of it at the top, but it wasn't for decency's sake so much as it was to keep warm before I got my clothes back on.

As I exited the bathroom, I almost dropped the towel in shock as I saw a contrite looking Spike sitting on the still messy bed, holding two cups and looking very uncomfortable.  "What do you want?" I didn't mean for it to sound angry, but I was just a little upset that he'd run off like that and then snuck back in while I was still in the shower.  What kind of man does that sort of thing?

"They don't have coffee here, so I had to go get some." He sounded vaguely apologetic, as though perhaps he could guess at what it must have been like for me to wake up alone.  "I got you some too."

"Thanks." I answered him after a moment, making an effort to keep my towel closed as I went about the room, gathering my clothes and wishing that I hadn't gotten so dressed up the night before.  I was really in the mood for wearing something more comfortable right then.  "I need to get dressed." I told him, and he nodded before I went back into the mess of the bathroom.  He was silent until I reemerged, fully clothed and feeling a little less upset with him.  After all, he had brought me coffee.

"I thought…if you wanted to…we could go out for breakfast." Spike offered.  If the situation wasn't so tense, so unbearably awkward, I would have been enjoying it thoroughly.  I doubt that I'd ever seen Spike looking so self conscious in all the time that I'd known him.  I took my coffee, but I didn't sit next to him, preferring to stand while I nursed the cup of hot liquid.

"I'm not really hungry." I told him.  It was the truth, after all.  My stomach was still sour from the night before, and all I really wanted right then was to get back to the Bebop so I could change my clothes and maybe get an aspirin or three.

"Neither am I." Spike rubbed the back of his head, darting glances at me, obviously not sure what else he could possibly say.  I mean, we'd just had sex all night long, and it hadn't really been something either of us was expecting to be doing, so it was kind of hard to know what to say now that it had occurred.  I decided that my coffee was the most interesting thing in the room, and as such, I focused all my attention on the paper cup full of steaming hot darkness.

"Um…Faye, about last night." It was Spike that finally broached the subject that neither of us obviously wanted to bring up.  "I'm sorry.  I was drunk and you were drunk…we shouldn't have…you know.  But we did."

"Yeah, it would appear that way." I commented, unable to keep a caustic tone out of my voice.  So, he did regret it.  I knew that he would, but I couldn't help feeling disappointed all over again.  "So."

"So…maybe we should just…you know, go back to normal?" Spike sounded hopeful, and I almost wanted to laugh at that.  _Spike was worried about how things would be between us?  It was ridiculous.  Why should he care?  "I don't want this to be…some issue between us."_

"So, act like it never happened?" I asked, keeping my voice carefully neutral as I tilted my cup back and forth, staring at the swirling liquid and still refusing to look up at Spike.

"Look…I know that it seems like sometimes we hate each other, and I guess I don't really know what you think of me, but I kinda…I respect you, Faye.  You get the job done, and I respect that you can do it in your own way, you know?  God…I sound like such a fucking idiot right now."  He sighed and I glanced up to see that he was staring at his coffee as well.  That made me feel a little better.

"I know what you're saying.  It's okay.  It was just a mistake." I knew I sounded cold and more than a little bitter, but I couldn't help it.  At least he liked me, but I wondered if maybe I'd prefer it if he just hated my guts and didn't want anything to do with me.  This way…it was harder, in its own way.  He was letting me see inside the shell that I was so used to having placed in the way, and it only made me want him that much more.  "Friends?" I never thought that word could be so hurtful before.

"Yeah.  Let's get back before Jet starts pitching a fit.  He'll think we killed each other." The joke was a bit forced, as was the smile he offered me before getting up to go.  "I'll meet up with you at the Bebop, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." I tried not to sound so dejected, but it hurt.  It hurt so bad to know that I was going to be his friend and nothing more than that.  To know that I'd started and ended our romantic relationship in the space of one night, and that we could never go back to that night.  I had thought memories would be enough, but now I realized that the memories were going to kill me.

"And Faye?" he stopped me as we turned separate ways after leaving the room.  He was going to check out, and I was just going to get the hell off this planet.

"Yeah?" I knew that I should have been a little less pissy, but I wasn't feeling very good about life right then.

"You're a good dancer." He told me.  The glint in his eyes when he said that…I might have just imagined it, but if there was anything that could have told me that maybe…just maybe he wanted me as much as I wanted him…it was the way he looked at me right then.

"Thanks." There wasn't much to say, so I just gave him a smile and said "You too."

----------

I don't know why I thought that after our night together things could just go back to normal.  After what happened, I think both Spike and I felt abnormally subdued, and the result was that we barely fought at all, and when we did, it was a pretty pathetic display of halfhearted efforts on both of our parts.  I had taken to avoiding him whenever I could, as it seemed that everything he did reminded me of that night.  His voice, low and husky as it always had been, seemed to me dripping with the promise of something more.  I could still hear that same voice calling out my name, and the way he said my name now, after all that had happened…it seemed to me as though he were caressing the single syllable with his voice, and it was too much for me.

Eating with him was torture.  I could remember the way his lips and tongue had felt on me, the way they had moved over my own mouth and then taken in the rest of my body.  Sitting there, watching him lick his lips, making small talk with Jet and trying to pretend I wasn't at the table…it was more than any woman should have to bear.  And his hands…I couldn't decide what I missed more, his mouth or his hands.  I had never really thought him very graceful before, but now it seemed that every move he made was so unbearably sensual…the man was sex on legs and it was driving me insane.

And then, when I thought my miserable existence couldn't possibly get any worse, I made a discovery that shook me to the core.  At first, I tried to ignore the fact that I was a little late, as it might have been caused by the stress of having to pretend like Spike wasn't on the same ship with me all the time.  But eventually I caved and bought a pregnancy test, only intending to prove to myself that it was nothing but nerves.  I never expected the test to be positive, but then again, I don't think I've expected a lot of the things in my life that really made a difference.  I never expected for that ship to malfunction and I never expected to be frozen for over fifty years.  I never expected to become a bounty hunter, and I never expected to meet Spike.  I certainly never expected to fall in love with him, and I never thought that our night together might have had such a drastic result.  But it seemed that, like it or not, I was learning that it's the things you _don't _expect that affect your life most.

So I decided that I would definitely have to do something.  And I had no idea what that would be, so after much deliberation, I finally approached Jet, prepared to have the single most uncomfortable discussion of my whole life.

"Jet?" he was trimming his bonsai, the little trees he loved so much, when I finally worked up the nerve to approach him.  After all, Jet was kind of like a father…in a weird way, and so I thought that maybe he'd have some really good advice that would sort everything out.  Anyway, any plan he had would likely be better than my idea to hide in my room and hope the baby inside me went away.

"Huh?  Faye, is something wrong?" I must have looked about as upset as I felt, because I had been keeping the whole thing a secret for about two weeks at that point, and it was making me a nervous wreck.  "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit." I confirmed.  "Can we talk?  It's kinda important."

"Oh…sure, come on in." Jet scooted over on his bench and patted the seat next to him, still looking more than a little worried.  I couldn't blame him.  After all, it was very rare that I sought out Jet for a talk about something that wasn't pertaining to the condition of the shower or my Redtail, and I think that at this point it must have been pretty obvious that this wasn't about either of those things.  "I love these trees." He turned back to the bonsai as I closed the door behind me, sitting down and fidgeting nervously as I thought of how to broach the subject.  "All of them are different, and it's like they have their own personalities.  Almost like little people, but of course, people are a bit more complicated than these." He seemed to know that I was extremely uncomfortable, and he was actually doing a passable job of putting me at ease, but I was still having a hard time talking to him.

"I have a problem." I told him finally.  "A big one."

"That's the only kind women have." Jet chuckled, but it wasn't demeaning at all, and I even gave him a small smile.

"Yeah, I know, but I think I need some advice." I told him.  "It…kinda…can you promise not to repeat anything I tell you?" I asked, my heart beating hard as I shot him a pleading look.  He shrugged, looking as thought we were talking about what was for dinner.

"Sure." He agreed.  "What's bothering you?"  Now, I have to admit that even though I thought of Jet as a father of sorts, it was mainly because of the fact that he seemed to be the one in charge when it came right down to it.  The Bebop was _his ship, after all, and he was always the one to settle disputes between us, but I think that coming to him with my problem was more an act of desperation than an idea that seemed perfectly natural to me.  I never expected him to be so…well, fatherly.  But at that moment, I felt almost like he really _was_ my dad, and that he could fix any problem I brought to him.  I never thought Jet was a genius or anything, but he was smart, and he had more common sense than the rest of us, and he was able to figure most things out if you gave him time to think about it._

"I'm pregnant." I blurted it out in that moment of trust and faith in Jet's ability to fix anything, and I was rewarded with a sharp grunt as Jet accidentally trimmed a bit more than necessary off his bonsai.  To his credit, he regained his composure almost immediately, setting the trimmers down and turning to look at me while scrubbing a hand over his balding head.  I can't imagine what he must have been thinking as he looked down at me, my eyes wide with hope and the desperate need for him to save me from my own life, but he blinked at me slowly before propping an arm on one of his legs and leaning forward to hold his chin.

"Is it Spike's?" he asked, as though it was more of a statement than a question.

"Uh…yeah." I wasn't sure how he knew that, but like I said, he knows a lot more than most people would think.  "I haven't been with anyone else for a while, what with bounty hunting and all that…but that night we went out together…"

"It's okay, I don't really want to hear about it." Jet rubbed his eyes as though trying to scrub the mental images away.  "I knew something was up between you two.  You can't even look at each other lately without going red.  It's ridiculous, but at least you haven't been fighting as much."

"Yeah, well…we agreed to just act like…nothing happened." I explained.  "But now there's this.  I don't know what to do."

"I take it Spike doesn't know?" Jet sighed heavily as I nodded.  "Well, I guess it really depends on what you want here.  Do you want to keep the baby?"  The look he gave me was stern, as though he was trying to communicate to me how important this choice was.

"Uh…I don't know.  I guess…I'd like to, but I mean…what am I supposed to do?  I can't just go on living this way if I'm having to drag a baby along with me everywhere I go.  But it's not like I can just find another way to live…I don't know." I shook my head, disgusted at how stupid I must have sounded.

"You know, this is my ship." Jet told me after a long pause.  "And if I didn't think that you were an important part of the crew, I could tell you to leave."  He paused again, looking at me carefully.  "If you have a kid, you don't have to leave the Bebop.  I wouldn't kick you off the ship just because of one more mouth that we would have to feed, especially since that baby is Spike's responsibility as well as yours.  I'm not about to lose you guys just because of an …unplanned development."

"Oh…well…I guess if I wasn't on my own, then it would work out…but if I have the kid and I stay here, then Spike will know it's his." I told him, my eyes wide and worried.  "Do you think he'd believe me if I told him it wasn't his?"

"Not for a second." Jet chuckled, "Nice try, but I know he'd see right through that.  You think he can't do the math?"

"I guess you're right." I felt as though the bottom of my stomach had just fallen out.  It was not a pleasant feeling.  "So…what do I do?"

"I suppose that you should tell him." Jet told me after some consideration.  "But could you please do me a favor?"

"What's that?" I felt like vomiting.  Telling Spike was the last thing I wanted to do, but if it meant that I could stay on the Bebop and keep the baby as well…I admit that when I first found out that I was pregnant, I didn't know if I wanted it or not, but at that point, I was mostly just trying to figure out how to keep it.  Apparently, this was the only way, so I supposed that I would have to do it.

"If you're going to tell him, do it in one of your rooms.  I don't want you guys breaking my stuff." Jet requested.  Somehow, that didn't make me feel any better.

"Uh…yeah." Getting up, I decided that I'd had enough useful advice for one day.

*****

The End! (Of Part 7, That Is)


	8. He Seems To Be Handling It Well

Woo boy!  I am so in the writing mood.  I don't know why, you know, you'd think I'd be depressed after wandering around ff.net with my imouto and seeing how many crap-ass shit fics have like a jillion reviews, making me feel like I, too, must be a shitty writer to have only as many or even less of a fanbase than some of those un-original pieces of misspelled, grammatically horrendous garbage, but you know, I feel like I know that I can write, and so I will not pay any heed to those fics out there that look like the bane of any intelligent reader's existence, yet garner more praise than anything five times better, with a beta and an attention to spell-check might deserve…sigh.  I will prevail!  Why?  Because there must be many skilled writers here that feel the same way I do, and they don't let it get them down!  Because I love me!  And as Jade oftentimes reminds me, she loves me as well!  And that, my friends, is more than enough for this writer.  Okay, and nooooooow…on to the chapter!

*****

One More Try

Part 8

*****

"Hey." Spike was sitting on the couch, carelessly smoking a cigarette and watching Ed play with Ein with the sort of casual disinterest that I'd come to expect from him.  I had only spoken to Jet about thirty seconds ago, and I was on my way to my room to try and think of some way out of the inevitable confrontation when he spotted me and waved a casual greeting from the couch.  You see, to get from Jet's bonsai garden to my room, I had no choice but to cut through the main living area, an unfortunate risk that, of course, resulted in me seeing Spike while I was still in such a state of mental disarray that there was very little I could do to make myself appear natural.  "What's up?  You look kinda…weird."

"Thanks." Still, after everything, he could push every one of my buttons without even trying.  I had to resist the urge to add some biting comment onto that sharp response.  "I'm fine." I told him.  Now, my plan was actually to continue on my original course to my bedroom without any further conversation, but at that moment I discovered that while my mind _thought it was in total control of my actions, my body was a damn rebellious one.  My legs seemed to think they had reached their final destination, and as long as Spike's head was craned back toward me, his face staring at me in casual curiosity, I could not get my feet to move forward.  So I figured that soon enough he'd look away and I'd be free to go to my room, to bemoan my fate in peace, but no.  Of course not._

"You sure?" he stretched his arms out behind his head, leaving his cigarette hanging from his lip in a way that was so cool, so utterly aloof and unconcerned, I just wanted to punch him.  He had no _idea how not-fine I was, and would he have really cared if he __did know?  I had my doubts.  "You look like you just saw a ghost or something."_

"I'm fine." Good, keep the responses nice and simple.  At least my _mouth seemed to know who was in charge.  Although I __did wish that my lower lip would stop doing that obnoxious trembling thing.  What, was I going to start crying?  All because the great, uncaring Spike deemed my condition important enough that it deserved any attention at all from him?  I really wanted a hug right then.  And maybe some ice cream.  And then I realized with terror that I was _blushing_.  Again.  What was wrong with me?  Couldn't I even make a good effort to pretend I wasn't madly in love with Spike?  I mean, really.  It was utterly pathetic, the way I fawned over him and became so…girly when he stared at me.  Damn his eyes.  Damn them, and damn his stupid, sexy voice._

"You look sick." He told me, the concern in his voice barely there, but notable all the same.  I hadn't lived with the man for so long without learning to read even the barest amounts of emotion in him.

"Uh…yeah, I'm gonna take a nap." Okay, so it wasn't my best piece of work ever, but at least it was a passable excuse to escape the room.  If only I could take charge of those stupid legs of mine…

"What's wrong with you?" Spike asked, stamping out his cigarette butt in the nearby ashtray.  Why did he have to keep asking me questions?  I was going to go insane, I was sure.

"Nothing much." I told him.  Yeah, Spike, I'm just feeling a little queasy.  Oh yeah, and I'm carrying your child, that too.  No big deal, same old things.  "Just a little under the weather."

"So you aren't sick then?" Spike asked, standing up.  I prayed to every deity that I'd ever heard of that he was _not going to come toward me.  Anything but that._

"No…just having a bad day." I think I should have won an award for the understatement of the century there.

"You want some tea?" he asked, stepping toward me with a critical look in his eyes.  Obviously, he was trying to tell whether I was full of shit or not.  I was used to him not believing me, as I was a pretty big liar.  I was about to say no to the tea, when I had a sudden stroke of genius.  If I asked for tea, he'd leave to make it, then I could hide in my room and pretend to be asleep so I didn't have to deal with any more of his concern.  I hated it when he was concerned for me.  It had the nasty result of reminding me how much I loved him, and that really made conversation difficult.

"Yeah, that'd be great." I told him, and suddenly Ed burst into a stream of giggles that only made my blush deepen.  Could she tell what was going on?  Did she suspect anything?  Or was she just being Ed?  It was very hard to tell.  One thing was for sure.  She'd given up playing with Ein and was now sitting on the back of the couch watching us with the utmost fascination.

"I'll boil some real fast then.  Go lay down." Spike said it like I was a child and he was in charge.  I hated it when he took that tone of voice with me.  I was more than three times his age, the damn smartass.  But I was not in the mood for lengthened encounters, so I didn't say anything to express my displeasure, only nodding and finding that apparently my legs followed Spike's instructions much better than mine.  Stupid legs.

I went straight to my room and climbed into bed, immediately pretending to be asleep.  It didn't take very long to make tea, and I didn't want to be having another conversation with Spike until I absolutely _had to.  I had just tucked myself in, deciding to mess up the blanket on top of me a little to make it look more like I'd been sleeping for a while, when Spike came back in with a steaming cup of tea.  Now, there's something you should know about Spike.  He makes the shittiest, most disgustingly strong tea I've _ever_ tasted.  It's like liquid gruel that tastes nothing short of utterly nauseating.  I only ever drank his tea once before swearing it off, and I wasn't about to start doing it again.  Thus the feigned sleep.  Well, that and I didn't want to have to make a fool of myself talking to him again._

"Faye?" his voice came to me, but I knew he was coming from the overpowering smell of the tea.  How did anyone make tea that strong?  It was like he boiled it until it was nothing but essence of tea.  I doubt eating the teabag raw was as disgusting as his tea.  Part of the problem was that he seemed to think that if he put enough sugar in, you wouldn't be able to tell that his tea sucked, but then it was sickeningly sweet at the same time, and it just made you want to gag.  "Come on, I made you tea." I had hoped that he would be respectful of my sleep, real or not, but no.  He insisted on waking me up to drink that nasty tea of his.  Would there be no end to my suffering?

"M'sleeping." I grumbled, snuggling against my pillow and hope he'd catch my less than subtle hint and just leave me alone.

"Just drink it." He insisted, back to his regrettable role as nursemaid, jostling me to wake me up.  Spike was seriously the worst nurse ever, and I thought it was damn funny that someone so utterly unskilled at taking care of others could possibly question my ability to do the same.  "You'll feel better."

"I'm tired." I told him.  I was not actually tired, but I would rather sleep for a month straight than drink that nasty crap.  "Just let me sleep."

"It'll only take a minute.  While it's still hot." He insisted.  Damn, men can be so pushy sometimes.  Maybe it wasn't really as disgusting as I remembered.  Sitting up with a sullen pout on my face, I took the hot cup he was offering and after watching the steam rise off of it for a few moments, took a deep gulp of it.

"Ugh…god…what do you put in here?  Raw fuel?" I asked, my face contorting at the absolutely unbearable flavor.  It was just as bad as I remembered, it seemed.  I pushed the mug back at him and he shot me a look of hurt confusion.  Yeah, well he could be as sad as he wanted about it; it wasn't going to make me finish that disgusting shit off.  "I'm not drinking any more of that."

"It's just tea." Spike took a sip and looked around.  "Tastes fine to me." He was obviously very touchy about this whole tea issue, but seriously, I think that if I would have finished the whole cup, it would have solved my problem by killing me _and_ that damn baby.

"It's the worst tea I've ever tasted." I told him.  "Get me some water or something to wash out the taste…gaw…" I was probably not making a very attractive face right then, but I could have cared less.  That tea was a hazard to my health, and besides that, I had my baby to think about.  I couldn't just be drinking random nasty tasting drinks.  Of course, the thought of the baby just made my face go completely white and then completely red in the space of about five seconds.

"God, whatever.  Fucking princess.  I was just trying to help." Spike was angry now, so I didn't think that he noticed the flash of mortification and embarrassment that crossed my face so quickly until he paused in his sulky tirade to quirk an eyebrow at me.  "What's wrong with you anyway?  You're making some weird ass faces.  You're all red." And then he put his hand on my forehead, feeling for a fever.  Of course, that did _not help my face return to it's original color, and his brow furrowed in that cute, concentrated face he sometimes makes before he gave me his diagnosis.  "You have a fever."_

"No I don't, just leave me alone." Okay, so I was a tad bit touchy.  In my defense, I was going through a very stressful time right then.

"Yes you do, you're all hot, see?" he picked up my hand and pressed it to my forehead as if that would get his point across.  What was I supposed to say to that?  I wasn't about to tell him I was blushing, so I decided that the best way out was another lie.

"Okay, yeah, I've got a fever.  Now leave so I can sleep it off." I ordered him.  Not that I was really going to sleep.  I had way too much to think about.

"Shouldn't you eat soup or something?" he made a face at me.  Apparently, he thought that after that tea, I was going to trust him to make soup.  Yeah right.

"Maybe later.  Go away and leave me alone.  And don't bother me again.  I need my rest." I got up, pushing him out of the room.

"I'll tell you when it's time for dinner." He seemed upset, but as was usual ever since the hotel, he didn't want to start a fight with me.  That was just too much for both of us.

"I'm not hungry, just leave." I slammed the door in his face and went to collapse on my bed.  Why wouldn't that man just leave me alone?  I could remember when he never used to have a problem ignoring me.  It was like he was only paying attention to me now because it was when I wanted to be able to disappear.  How aggravatingly male of him.

----------

I stood in front of my mirror, frowning at my profile as I let the steam from my shower dissolve around me.  I was about three months pregnant now, and even though Jet knew, he'd been true to his word and not said one thing about it to Spike or Ed.  Of course, Spike knew something was wrong with me once the morning sickness kicked in.  He thought I had the flu, and I was so angry at him for nagging me that I told him it was from being poisoned by his raunchy tea.  He was still pretty touchy about that, so he huffed off after I said it and then didn't ask again about my wellbeing.

I was starting to wonder if it was just my imagination, or if I was forming a little bit of extra flesh out in front of me.  I understood perfectly well that I wasn't go to stay my usual slender self for the duration of the pregnancy, but as I wasn't the expert on such things, I wasn't quite sure how long it would be until I started to show.  Maybe I was just getting fat in my old age.  Either way, it wasn't much, and the only reason I noticed it was because I was so obsessed with keeping in perfect condition, since I lived and died by my sex appeal.  And of course, that begged the question of what would I _do_ when I started to swell up like a balloon?  I couldn't go around running everywhere and seducing bounties and all that.  I would have to take a break, it seemed, and since I was already feeling guilty about having Jet take in my child, that only compounded with the idea of being out of commission for a few months worth of sitting around and just being fat.

And I still hadn't told Spike.  Sucking in my stomach as far as it would go, I pursed my lips and let it back out again.  No use trying to hide it forever, I suppose.  I knew that even if I continued to walk around in increasingly concealing clothing, Spike would be able to notice I was pregnant before too long.  As it was, he was giving me weird looks for insisting on wearing loose shirts and jeans around the ship, since I rarely wore such things.  I had shrugged and said that it was a bit chilly on the ship, but I knew that he was suspicious.  I couldn't bear to have him make some comment about me putting on weight, though.  It was inescapable.  I'd have to tell him.  Now if only I could work up the nerve to do it.

"Faye, what are you _doing in there!" Spike's voice was irate and utterly impatient.  He still didn't want any prolonged fights with me, but he was also getting sick of me pushing him around because I thought he'd just step aside rather than start a fight.  Not that I'd been abusing it all that much, but I was very cranky lately.  I had a lot on my mind._

"Just wait a second, asshole!" I retorted.  Of course, that was a pretty friendly exchange between us considering some of the things we said when we were actually angry, but I wasn't about to let him push me around either.  I wrapped my hair in a towel and put my robe on before exiting the bathroom with my back straight and my chin raised defiantly.  He had been so moody lately, I sometimes wondered which one of us was the one who was pregnant.  Although he could have just been upset that I was treating him like the asshole he was once again.  "There, I'm finished."

"About time." He grumbled before taking my spot in the bathroom.  I went to change into my jeans and shirt, and stretched the shirt tight over my stomach momentarily while still in my room.  Yes, I was definitely starting to show, if only the tiniest bit.  Time was running out, and I knew it.  Taking a deep breath, I walked out into the main living area and then through into the kitchen, where my fresh pot of coffee waited for me.

"You know, I hear that stuff isn't really good for babies." Jet's voice startled me and I almost spilled coffee on my hand as I poured.

"Shit, Jet, don't say stuff like that where anyone can hear.  Scared the shit out of me." I set the pot back and spooned some sugar into my cup, stirring it lightly.  "Anyway, a little coffee won't kill it.  I've cut down to a cup a day, but this kid's gonna have to make a compromise until I can quit completely."

"I noticed you've quit smoking." Jet commented, leaning against the counter slightly as he watched me add milk to my coffee.  I used to drink it black, but I figured it wasn't as bad if I put milk in it.  "That must've been hard."

"Not really.  Not as bad as this." I admitted, sipping at the hot liquid.  "I feel like I'm half asleep all the time."

"Spike's noticed too." Jet continued, his arms crossing.  "He asked me about it.  Seems to think something's wrong with you.  He says you haven't smoked for nearly two months now, and he thinks maybe you're hiding something from us.  He's also worried about the morning sickness and the clothes."

"Well it's none of his business." I grumbled.

"Faye, he has a right to know.  He'll find out soon enough, anyway.  T-shirts and jeans aren't going to hide anything in a few months." Jet lectured.  "And what do you think you're going to do?  Just keep it hidden in your room like a pet?"

"No!  God…I know, Jet.  Don't you think I've thought about all this already?" I hated feeling guilty.  "But really, what do you suggest I do?  Just walk up to him and say, 'hey Spike, want a kid?  Well, today's your lucky day!'  It's ridiculous.  He'll pitch a fucking fit when I tell him.  He's been acting like a premenstrual bitch lately."

"That's only because he's worried." Jet assured me.  "You just need to have a talk with him.  And…try to keep it free of violence, okay?  You two can get a little…rough at times, and I'd not really like spending a weak cleaning up after you."

"Yeah…yeah, I know.  I'll tell him.  Really." I sighed at Jet's dubious expression.  "I swear, I really will tell him.  I'll tell him today."

"Tell who what?" Spike chose that utterly perfect moment to come into the kitchen, towel around his waist, hair still dripping water down his bare chest.  And after I'd made it a point not to see him coming out of the shower for the past three months.  Damn him and his hot body.

"Faye and I were just talking about you." Jet told Spike as I shot him a look of absolute horror.  There I was thinking that Spike was the most evil man alive, when it turned out that Jet was five times worse!  How cruel was my life?  "She has something she needs to tell you, doesn't she?"

"Uh…well I don't have to tell him right now." I licked my lips nervously.  "Maybe he's busy."

"I'm not doing anything." Spike moved toward me and I skittered away before realizing he was just trying to get some coffee.  That, or give me a heart attack.  "What is it?"

"Maybe…um…maybe Jet wants to leave now." I glared at the older man.  He was _not_ going to watch me tell Spike.  I wouldn't allow it.

"Oh, yeah, I just remembered I needed to water my trees." Jet smiled at us both, gave me a wink, and left.  I wanted to kick him.

"So…what is it that you needed to tell me?" Spike was still a little groggy, straight out of the shower with no coffee in his system yet, so I thought that maybe that would make things easier.

"Well…um…well, it's about you.  And me…and um…um, that night." I prayed that he wouldn't force me to go into details.  I was having a hard enough time, what with him half naked and drinking his coffee as though nothing at all was amiss.

"I thought…we weren't going to talk about that." Now, maybe I was just a little delusional, but I swear to you that Spike _blushed_ at that point, and you have no idea how much better I felt to see him disconcerted like that.  "Wait…does Jet know?"

"Um…yeah, kinda." I managed to offer an apologetic smile as thunderclouds brewed on Spike's face.

"Why would you tell him things like that?" Spike was upset, but still too slow and groggy to really yell at me.  Instead he sounded confused and a little louder than usual.

"I had to!  I needed his advice!" This was not going well at all.  We weren't even to the _real issue, and he was already looking rather violent.  And after I'd told Jet we wouldn't break things…_

"What?  His advice?  Were you guys having a fucking slumber party or something?  Did you paint each other's nails?" I couldn't tell if Spike was partially jealous that I'd been confiding in Jet or just one hundred percent pissed at me for telling our secret, but he looked ready to raise hell, and he was _not_ listening to me at all.

"No!  God, Spike, just pay attention for five fucking seconds without making some smartass comment!" I slammed my cup down on the counter sharply, and for once, Spike actually listened to me.  That, or he was taking exceptionally long to think of a good comeback while he blinked at me.  "I'm pregnant, okay?  That's why Jet knows about us!  Because I didn't know what to do, and I knew you would figure out it was yours if I stayed, and I didn't want to get rid of it even though I have no fucking clue how to raise a kid, so I went to him for advice!  And he _knew it was yours as soon as I told him I was pregnant, so don't go blaming me for telling your secret, because he'd figured it out already!  So there!"_

In all the time that I'd known Spike, we had been in countless arguments over many topics, from why I took an apparently "unreasonable" amount of time in the shower, to why I didn't like his cooking, to why I thought he was annoying as all hell.  Through the course of these arguments, I had managed to cause many reactions in Spike, so I actually had seen him struck speechless on a few rare occasions before, but it was a hard thing to do, and the effects usually never lasted for more than a minute.  Much less five.  I had gone back to drinking my coffee after I finished, feeling the rush of adrenaline that always comes when Spike and I fight, and trying not to shake with anxiety as I awaited his response to the news, but once I'd finished my coffee and he was still staring at me, mouth slightly ajar, I decided that maybe this once, I'd actually damaged Spike.  It hadn't been my intention, so I set the mug down and walked over to him, tilting my head to look in his eyes.  Well, he was still blinking.  That was a good sign, right?

"Spike?  Aren't you going to say anything?" I prompted him.  It seemed he had needed some sort of reminder, so he worked his jaw soundlessly for a few moments before managing a very eloquent reply.

"Uh…oh…" he blinked again and downed his coffee in one huge drink before setting the cup down and blinking at me again.  "So…this is why…"

"I've been sick, yes." I finished for him.  Obviously, he was in some advanced state of shock.  I'd been pretty surprised when I found out, too.  "And that's why I've been wearing these clothes…it's starting to show just a little, you see.  I quit smoking and drinking right away, since it's bad for the baby.  And I've been weaning myself off of coffee, so…yeah."

"Baby?" he repeated.  "You're still…pregnant then?"

"Of course." I sighed, trying to be patient.  "I told you I wanted to keep it."

"But…you can't be a mother!" he protested wildly.

"Why not?" I asked, feeling a bit defiant.  "I can do a damn good job, I bet."

"But…you're a bounty hunter with a fucking bounty on your _own_ head.  Don't you think…you shouldn't be raising any kids?" Spike questioned.

"I thought about that." I nodded.  It had been a big concern.  "But Jet said that since it's ours, I can keep it and stay on the ship, in which case it's actually no big problem.  I don't think that I could have kept it if I didn't have somewhere to stay." I explained.

"Why…I didn't know you wanted to be a mother." Spike's eyes were still wide in shock and confusion.  "Why'd you want to keep it?"

"I…just did." I pressed my eyes closed, because I knew that I couldn't tell him the real reason.  I'd figured it out by then, of course.  I was hopelessly, madly in love with Spike, and I knew he would never feel the same way.  The baby was material proof of the fact that for one glorious night, I'd been with him, and even if it was just sex to him, it was something so much more to me.  That night was the only time in my entire life when I'd made love to a man, and the baby inside of me was proof of my feelings and of the faint possibility that Spike could want me back.  And by that time, I was starting to think that maybe the motherhood thing wouldn't be so bad.  Think of it, after all.  To have one human being that loves you unquestioningly from the moment it first sees you, that relies on you entirely.  I'd never had something like that before, and I wanted it so much.

"And…Jet knows?" Spike came back to that point again.  "You told him, but you didn't tell me?"

"I couldn't tell you.  I didn't want to." I admitted.  "I thought…you'd think…maybe you'd feel like…you were responsible and all…I didn't want you to…you know."  And I was once again reduced to a pile of uncommunicative mush.

"You thought I'd want to take responsibility if I found out?" Spike was apparently gaining strength from my lack of ability to speak properly.  "Well…I mean, I guess it's my kid.  It _is_ mine, right?"

"Of course!" I snapped, but I blushed immediately afterward.  It wasn't as though Spike was trying to be cruel by asking such a thing.  I wasn't exactly an innocent, as he knew well enough.  "It's yours, I know it is."

"Well…what am I supposed to do now?"  he looked so lost, and I had to laugh bitterly at how it was a reflection of my own feelings as of late.

"I wish I knew what _I was supposed to do." I told him.  "I don't know…Jet says it's your responsibility too, and all that, but I didn't really ask _you_ if you wanted this, so I guess it's up to you.  If you want to play daddy, that's your deal, but I think I'm perfectly capable of raising this child on my own."_

"You don't think…we should…you know?" Spike still looked confused, but I just patted his shoulder.  I'd had enough for one day.

"I'm not asking you to marry me or anything.  I'm just saying that it's really up to you whether you want to be a father or not.  You can have time to think about it, if that helps." I offered.

"Uh…yeah…time to think." Spike picked up his coffee mug and tried to drink from it.  Looking confused that it was empty, he went to fill it back up as I walked back to my room.  Well, at least that was over with.  And we didn't even break anything.

*****

The End (Of Part 8, That Is)


	9. Aw, Spike Needs A Hug

I love this story!  I love it soooo much!  I like to write it and sit there singing little made up songs about how great it is.  Yeah, not that I'm boastful or anything, but obviously _I like it.  I assume you guys must like it too.  You do keep coming back for more, so yeah.  Anyway…is it just me or are there like no jobs?  I cannot find a job!  My job is like, going out to apply for jobs and then getting depressed because no one calls me back!  Whyyyyyyy?  Oh well, if there was a way to make money writing fanfiction without breaking copyright laws, maybe then I could get some cash.  Until I do get a job, I suppose I'm just a fanfiction writing…machine…or something.  Yeah, I need to stop talking now._

*****

One More Try

Part 9

*****

After confessing the truth to Spike, I tried to pretend I couldn't feel the constant tension between us, but it wasn't very easy to act like I was blind to something so obvious.  Soon after that morning, I had been making myself tea in my newest attempt to wean myself off of coffee, when Jet had entered the kitchen and dropped a book down right next to me, almost as though he was laying it there casually.  I glanced at the title and noticed that it was a book on parenting, so of course I asked him why he'd have something like that lying around the Bebop.  He said that he figured I deserved some sort of reward for being honest with Spike and not breaking anything in the process, and told me he'd just happened to see the book while he was out shopping for food.  I almost made a smartass comment about how a parenting book was the perfect present for a stylish girl like myself, but instead I thanked him.  I knew it was hard sometimes for Jet and I to talk to each other, and a lot of times I felt that I didn't know him as well as I should, so it was actually really nice of him to get the book for me.

It turned out to have a lot of pretty good stuff in it, but Spike hated it from the first moment he came into the living room to see me curled up with my tea, reading it.  I had only just gotten the book, so I wasn't that far in, and a lot of it was boring doctor talk.  You know the kind where they use big words not because they're trying to be informative, but because they want to show off their vocabulary to the public as if to say "look how much smarter I am."  Anyway, I was kind of skimming through the beginning, and Spike comes in, fresh from his shower.  Apparently, he has some stigma about wearing shirts first thing in the morning, and it was really starting to get on my nerves.

"What are you doing?" he asked, rubbing at the moisture in his hair with one hand as he paused on the way to his coffee.

"Reading a book." I responded, finding no end of satisfaction in the fact that if I just looked at the pages closely enough, I couldn't even catch a glimpse of Spike's chest.  Maybe I should read more often.

"I didn't know you could read." He teased, moving on to get his coffee.  I let out a loud sigh and turned the page.

"Just because _you can't figure out what all those 'funny symbols' mean, that doesn't mean it's beyond an intelligent young woman like myself." I shot back in my most regal tone.  Spike _hated_ when I spoke to him in a condescending manner, which was why I loved doing it so much._

"I can read!" Spike called back at me from the kitchen.  He was never good at verbal battles before he had his coffee.  Not that I'd had _my coffee in almost a week, but I was really starting to get used to functioning without as much caffeine.  "What's that book about, anyway?  How to sell your body on the streets?"_

"Really clever, Spike." I sighed again.  "It's about parenting.  Jet gave it to me."  Silence greeted my explanation.  My theory was that Spike liked to pretend the pregnancy didn't really exist, so it really damaged his little fantasy world whenever I mentioned it.

"Faye-faye!" Ed came zooming into the room, Ein on her heels, managing to look about three hundred times more dignified than the boisterous young girl.  "Oooh!  Faye-faye's got a book!  Let Ed see!"  I held up the cover for her to read, not really minding an interruption from _her_.  At least Ed didn't have the audacity to insult my intelligence just because I wasn't the most avid reader in the universe.  "A baby book?"

"Yeah," I decided to elaborate when I saw Spike re-entering the room with a cup of coffee in his hand.  "I'm pregnant."  His reaction was priceless.  He had been sipping the coffee, and he managed to trip and choke at the same moment, spilling it all down his chest so that he had to run back into the kitchen, muttering curses under his breath.

"Wow!  With a baby?" Ed wanted to know.  I momentarily thought of asking her what _else she thought I could be pregnant with, but decided after a moment that I really didn't want to know.  "Can Ed see?"_

"Not yet.  It's not due for another six months or so." I told her.  It was somehow a lot easier to talk about this with Ed than it had been with anyone else so far.  Maybe it was because she was a girl…technically.  Maybe it was because everyone else already knew.  Or maybe it was just seeing Spike spill coffee all over himself.

"Can Ed see the baby tummy?" Ed leaned far over the back of the couch, almost falling on top of me as she reached for the hem of my shirt.  I pulled it up for her to see my stomach, and she made a disappointed noise.  "It's not fat yet."

"Don't worry, it will be." I assured her.  I couldn't imagine why she was so disappointed that I didn't have a "fat baby tummy" yet, but most of the time, I didn't ask Ed questions like that.

"Know what, Faye-faye?" Ed stood up straight, obviously not interested in my stomach since it wasn't fat enough for her yet.  "You should name it…Watson Elmondium Rupert Spirufus Casadeo the…the Sixth!"

"Um…I'll think about that." I tried not to roll my eyes.  If Ed ever had any children…I pitied the poor things the names she would bestow upon _them._  Turning my head back to my book, I ignored Ed's singing explanation of why six was a better number than five, but looked up long enough to quirk an eyebrow at Spike as he walked back through the room with a new cup of coffee and an obviously injured ego.  I loved making that man uncomfortable.  It was just too fun.

----------

I think that it was around six months in that things started to really get interesting.  You see, at that point, I wasn't immensely huge, but it was clearly visible what sort of condition I was in, and it was a lot harder for Spike to pretend that the baby was all a figment of my imagination.  Ed was constantly euphoric that I had such a wonderful "baby tummy" as she told me every time she got a chance, and I was starting to do a lot of work to ensure that my body would return to peak condition as fast as possible once the baby was born.  I was using a special ointment on my stomach to prevent stretch marks, and I was eating as healthy as I could, following a strict work out schedule, and generally making sure there was no additional weight added during the pregnancy.  Spike avoided me whenever possible, and he became extremely irritable whenever there was mention of the pregnancy in his presence, which was why things reached a breaking point one night as we were eating dinner and Jet started the conversation with a decree that I had known was coming for some time.

"Faye, you're getting pretty far along." He looked up from the strange salad he had made us all.  At least he was _attempting to make the menu more appropriate for a pregnant woman.  "I think that you should stop doing missions for a while, until after the baby comes."_

"I'm not _that_ big." Just because I'd known it was coming didn't mean I'd go down without a fight.  A little one, at least.

"You're fucking enormous." Spike snorted, looking unsure as to whether he really wanted to insult me if it meant he had to acknowledge my condition.  "Look like a bloated stripper."

"A…what?" I wasn't sure whether I was upset or confused.  "Spike, don't start with me.  _You're the one busy trying to pretend that _this_," I indicated my stomach with a sweeping gesture, "is excess water weight.  It's a _baby_, and it's _yours_.  Got it?" Spike dropped his fork, working his jaw for something good to say as the blood drained from his face.  Three months he had known, and it __still terrified him._

"Spike-person's a daddy now?" Ed perked up immediately.  I would have assumed she would have figured it out by then, but I suppose she'd been waiting for verbal confirmation.

"No, no he's not." I assured her, "Just because you'll climb on top of a woman and impregnate her, that doesn't make you anything.  Only _real_ men are fathers.  Ones who do things like…oh, I don't know, admit to the fact that the baby _exists_!"

"So now I'm not a real man?  It's not _my fault you got pregnant!  I would've thought a whore like you'd be on ten different kinds of birth control!" Spike had regained the ability to speak, and he was using it to make me want to kill him.  I tossed my fork down angrily at his words, rising to the bait more easily than I should have._

"Spike!  Are you trying to tell me that _this is none of your responsibility?"  I gave him a challenging look, my eyes wide and angry.  "Do you think I _wanted_ this to happen?  That I planned it?  I can think of hundreds of men who would make a better father than you, but it was __my bad luck that the one time something like this happens, it was with you!"_

"Well I can think of _thousands_ of women who would make a better mother than _you_!" he snapped back.  We both rose at almost the same time, glaring across the table at each other.  "I don't see why it should be _my problem if I got drunk one night and couldn't fucking think straight!"_

"Fine!  It's _not_ your problem!  As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist to this baby!  You're nothing, got it?  I _told you I didn't need your help raising it, and I meant it!  I'd hate to think what kind of an influence you would be on _my_ baby anyway!" I felt tears rising to my eyes, but I couldn't bear to let him see me cry, so I ran out of the room, back to my own quarters, where I slammed and locked the door shut, letting the tears roll down my face as I leaned against the door, my hands resting on my stomach as they often did when I was feeling particularly lonely or upset those days.  _

I shook with silent sobs, not knowing or caring why I was so upset to know that Spike wanted nothing to do with this baby when I'd suspected as much from the beginning.  I could hear raised voices coming from the living room, and I knew that Spike and Jet were arguing, which was so rare that I might have taken note of it if I had found myself able to care at that moment.  Maybe Spike didn't want me, and maybe he didn't want my baby, but I knew that I could be everything the baby needed, and that in the end, we'd love each other much more than we could have if that stupid man insisted in messing around with my plans.  I didn't need him.  We didn't need him.

Sniffling, I took a deep breath and walked to my bed, sitting and then lying down slowly, stretching my legs out and letting my back pop several times, relieving some of the physical strain of the pregnancy and the rest of my life.  I wouldn't be doing any missions for at least three months, so I supposed that I better get used to what it felt like to lie around, feeling fat and totally unloved.

"You love me, don't you?" I spoke softly, rubbing my stomach and closing my eyes.  Yes, that was right.  My baby would love me, because I would show it all I could.  I would be the best mother I could be, and it would love me when no one else wanted to.  I lie there for quite some time, breathing slowly and letting my tears dry on my cheeks, relaxing and feeling another bit of me become hard and numb.  That man was so damaging…wasn't I worn out enough without his help?

"Faye?" the voice was easily recognizable as Jet's, and it was accompanied by a short knock.  I decided to pretend that I was asleep.  Maybe he'd go away.  I wasn't mad at Jet, really, but I didn't feel like speaking to anyone right then, to tell the truth.  "Faye, are you in there?"  There was a long pause, and I assumed that he'd given up, but then he let out a long sigh and began speaking again.  "Spike didn't mean all that." He told me, sounding rather apologetic.  "I know that he didn't. He's just…confused right now.  He'll come around, I know what kind of man he is, and he won't just ignore his responsibilities.  He won't leave you alone to try and—"

"Why does everyone act like this baby's a burden?" I called out sharply.  "It's mine, and I won't share it with Spike if he's doesn't want anything to do with it, if he's just going to resent it.  It's mine."

"I know it is, Faye." Jet was trying to be helpful, but I was angry at him for trying to justify Spike's position.  "But do you really want to just erase him from the kid's life?"

"That's the idea." I called.  "You have too much faith in him, you know that?  He's not sorry, and he doesn't want this baby at all.  And I'm _glad_.  I don't want some fucking idiot raising my baby."  At that, there was a sharp rap on my wall, and I realized that Spike was in his room, right next door to me.

"I can hear you, fucking bitch!" he called out.  "Keep your sob story down, no one wants to hear it."

"Don't get me started on sob stories, asshole!" I called out, reaching down and throwing a shoe at the wall.  "I can think of a _really_ pathetic one.  It's about this guy who fell in love with his best friend's girlfriend."

"Faye!" Jet's voice was full of warning, but I ignored it.

"So they started fucking around behind the friend's back, and when he found out, the best friend got pretty pissed off and planned to take the guy out.  So then the guy decided to be really honorable and run the hell away with the girl.  Of course, she was too scared to leave, so she just stayed back with the friend, because hell, who's to say that she even loved the guy?  She was one of those girls who had hordes of guys running around after her, but she could have given a shit about any of them.  And this was just one more guy to her." I spoke loudly so that Spike could hear everything I said.

"You don't fucking know anything about that!" Spike pounded his fist against the wall, and I continued.

"So then the guy goes on with his life, meets new people, has a whole new life, but the second he hears that the girl is out looking for him, he drops it all to meet her so they can run away together just like in the fairy tales.  But this isn't the fairy tales, so the girl ends up _dying_ and the guy decides life's not worth living anymore so he goes and almost gets himself killed getting revenge." I finished.  "And the really sad part is that he _lived_."  There was a short scuffling noise and I recognized the sounds of Spike slamming his door and struggling with Jet who was saying something about me not meaning it and telling him to calm down.  I felt a stab of sudden fear as I heard a slam against my door and realized that Spike was trying to break in and get to me.

"Open the fucking door!" he sounded so enraged that I shivered slightly, wondering if my door could hold up to him until Jet could stop him.

"No way!  Go away, fucking baby!" I looked around for something to defend myself with in case he did break in.  I didn't want to shoot him, so the gun was out of the question…maybe I could spray his eyes with perfume?  "If you can't handle the truth, don't take it out on me!"

"Spike!  Stop that!" Jet's voice was a bit muffled, as though he was struggling to hold Spike still and not doing a very good job of it.  "She's just trying to piss you off!"

"Then she can come out here and say it to my face!" Spike was yelling.

"She's fucking _pregnant_ Spike!  Do you really want to fight with her?" Jet's tone was harsh, and his words had the desired affect, because the sounds of the struggle died almost immediately.  "She's pregnant.  With your kid.  Think things _through, Spike.  Don't just go crazy.  I'm not your damn father.  Take care of yourself for once." Jet sounded more than a little angry, and I actually felt a bit guilty for provoking Spike, but I didn't put down the perfume bottle I was clutching tightly in my left hand as I moved forward, leaning against the door to speak to the man on the other side._

"Sorry." I offered him, slightly upset at the tremble in my voice.

"Yeah." He sighed and I heard a noise as he slumped against the door.  I let my eyes close as I pressed my cheek to the door.  I could almost hear the noise of him breathing from where I was.  "Yeah, me too." He sounded confused, defeated, and utterly deflated.  "Can I come in now?"  I paused then, looking at the perfume bottle for a few moments before tossing it aside and licking my lips.  I unlocked the door and opened it cautiously.  He was standing there, staring at me with sad eyes, and I moved back to let him in.  He stepped inside and looked around while I closed the door, leaning back against it as he pretended to be fascinated with the bottles of make up on my dresser.

"I wouldn't have hurt you." He told me, his voice barely more than a whisper.  "I swear."

"I know." I told him.  "You don't hit women."

"You were scared, though." He picked up a bottle of mascara and twirled it slowly in between his fingers before setting it back down.  "I could hear it in your voice.  You thought I'd hit you."

"Not really." I wasn't lying.  I might have been frightened, but I had never _really_ thought that Spike would hit me in any of the times he was angry.

"I shouldn't have lost my temper." He set his palm down on the dresser, his eyes closing slightly.

"I shouldn't have said those things." I told him in return.  "I…I didn't mean it.  I was just mad.  It's not like I can't defend myself if you ever did try to hit me, anyway."

"Yeah." He looked up at me with a sad smile.  "Yeah.  Faye…did I ever tell you about my parents?"

"Uh…no." I'd always kind of assumed that people like Spike didn't really _have parents.  Well, obviously he had to have them, but I thought that maybe he was an orphan or something like that.  He just seemed so…aloof._

"My dad died before I could remember, so my mom raised me herself." He was picking up each bottle and jar in turn, fiddling with it momentarily, and then setting it down on the dresser.  I'd rarely ever seen Spike fidgeting before.  "She remarried though, when I was five.  This big, burly kind of guy.  His name was Roy."  There was a long pause here and I wondered if that was all he was going to tell me, but then he continued, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as though he were reading the words from there.  

"Roy was an okay guy most of the time, but sometimes…he got mean.  Mom and him would get into fights all the time, and he'd hit her.  She told me to stay away from him when he got like that, but I still saw what was going on.  One day, things went too far.  He hit her upside the head with an empty bottle.  She didn't get up." Spike paused, and I wondered for a moment if he was going to cry.  At that point, I wouldn't have been surprised.  I'd never heard so much about Spike's past in one conversation before.  Most of what I knew was based on the tidbits he'd dropped and things I'd figured out for myself.  "That night, when he was sleeping, I shot him.  First person I ever killed.  I was eight."  He turned then, and I knew that he had tears in his eyes, though whom they were for, I wasn't sure.  "That's why I don't hit women.  I never, ever…I never would."  He was so desperate for me to believe him, and I felt like _I_ was going to start crying.  I couldn't believe that he'd told me something so private.  I moved forward, and he captured me in a hug so tight that I was breathless for a few moments.

"I know it." I spoke softly, letting my hand tangle in his dark green curls, moving soothingly over his head and neck.  "You're a good man, Spike.  You are."  I had never imagined Spike like this before, so broken and helpless.  It was a side of him that I hadn't even imagined could exist.  And somehow, the fact that he was human after all…that only made me love him more.  We stood in silence for several moments, and then he mumbled against my neck.

"Feels different." His breath was hot, and his lips brushed against my throat enticingly, but I reminded myself that we were sharing a meaningful moment and it was not the time for thinking about sex.

"What?" I asked, not really sure what he was talking about.

"With this." One of his hands moved down from my back across to the swollen stomach that was pressed against him.  "It feels different hugging you."  I laughed then.  I'm not sure why it struck me as funny, but it did.

"Wait a few months, it'll be even worse." I told him, still smiling slightly.  There was another long pause, and finally I pulled away from him.  "I don't want to fight with you, Spike."

"Me neither." He answered.

"Good." I didn't really know if we'd actually decided anything, but the atmosphere seemed lighter, that was for sure.

"Faye, I think you'll be a good mom." He told me, moving toward the door.  "I didn't mean what I said."

"Yeah.  Me neither." I answered.  He nodded and left.  After he was gone, I climbed into bed.  That was way too much emotion for _me for one day.  I was going to bed._

*****

The End (Of Part 9, That Is)


	10. Next Time Maybe You Shouldn't Screw With...

Man…those two crazy kids.  I don't think either of them knows what they want right now, but I'm sure that with a little time on my part, we can get everything all sorted out.  In the meantime, on with the fic!

*****

One More Try

Part 10

*****

"It looks like this is going to be your best chance." Jet spoke to Spike in a hushed tone, and I doubt that I would have been able to hear them if I hadn't been standing right outside the kitchen listening in.  It wasn't like I was spying on them, but for a couple of days, Spike and Jet had been acting extremely sneaky.  It was completely irritating how they went quiet whenever I entered the room, and it wasn't easy to get around unobtrusively with my stomach all swollen up with that damn baby.  I mean, I still wanted to be a mother and all that, but at around six and a half months in, I started to wonder about _why_ I wanted to put up with all that down time just so I could have a cuddly little baby.  Really, couldn't I just buy a cat or something?  Or just…start petting Ein?  Those ideas were starting to seem pretty good now that I was having all those annoying problems that come along with a huge stomach, like the bad back and the swollen ankles and the constant irritability.  Also, I was becoming strangely paranoid, but I think that might have just been the fact that Spike and Jet were obviously sneaking around behind my back.

"Okay, I think I'll go out after dinner.  She doesn't stay up very late anyway, so she won't know until I come back." Spike was answering Jet, and I leaned against the wall slightly, a little tired of standing there waiting for them to get to the point so I could know why they seemed to be secretly plotting against me.  Unfortunately, I managed to be extremely off balance ever since I gained that additional poundage due to my baby, so I kind of misjudged the distance and ended up tripping over myself and falling on my ass.

"Faye?  What are you doing?" Jet heard my sharp curse as I caught myself and began the obnoxiously laborious process of trying to stand back up.  And then my chance was ruined, as both men were now aware of my presence, with Jet helping me up and Spike looking as though he thought he knew I'd heard them talking.  I sincerely enjoyed his guilty expression for the feeling of satisfaction it always tended to give me.

"What are _you guys doing?" I decided to finally be out with it and ask them about their suspicious behavior.  "Where are you going after I'm in bed tonight?"_

"I'm gonna go sell you to the circus." Spike probably couldn't help answering with a smartass insult, as that was something of a reflex for him, especially when he was feeling defensive.  However, I didn't want to deal with his crap.

"Yeah, okay, fucking hilarious." I rolled my eyes as I moved over to the couch.  There was no _way_ I was going to listen to their half-assed explanations _and_ make my back hurt more than it already did.  "Really, what are you two up to?  You've been sneaking around all week, and it's creeping me out."  Jet and Spike gave each other long looks as though they were deciding something between them, and finally Jet nodded and let out a long sigh.

"Spike's going after a bounty tonight." Jet explained, looking surprisingly sheepish, as though he actually felt guilty for sneaking around.  "We didn't want to tell you because…you know, you can't go and all that.  We didn't want you to get upset."

"Yeah, cause you've been fucking moody lately." Spike added helpfully.  I leveled a dry stare at him and waited for him to look a bit nervous before I spoke up again.

"So." I was angry that they were trying to cut me out of the loop just because I was pregnant, but I liked scaring them by acting perfectly calm at first so that they were confused.  I find it very satisfying.  "You think that this whole thing would go a lot easier if I was just left out?  Like maybe I'd get in the way since I'm only good for field work?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much—" Spike was cut off by a sharp look from Jet, who then returned his attention to me, smiling apologetically.  Jet was such a pacifist, and I suppose I had to admire that.

"No, we just didn't want you to have to worry at all." He assured me.  "We know how hard this is on you, and it would be stupid to make you work when I gave you this time off."

"I'm _still part of this crew." I bit the words off harshly, and Jet looked a bit frightened.  I guess they still didn't like my pregnancy mood swings, but I wasn't really in the mood to please at the moment, so they could just deal with it.  "Do you think that just because I can't be shaking my ass for a bunch of stupid ass bounties, that means that there's nothing useful I can do?  Is that what you really think of me?  That I'm nothing but a fucking sex pot that's totally useless now that I'm all fucking fat?"  There was a slightly subdued pause before Spike licked his lips, looking as though he'd just had an epiphany._

"You can fix me up if something happens to me." He offered, prompting a relieved nod from Jet.  That was right, of course.  It wasn't as though field work was _all I ever did.  Spike had a point, much as it pained me to realize that._

"Yeah, we still need you, Faye.  We just don't want you to get hurt out there since you know…you have the baby to think about too." Jet supported Spike's point immediately, seeing the calming affect that the words had on me.  "But you know that without you, Spike would pretty in big trouble."

"Okay." I sighed.  I knew they must have thought I was crazy.  Only a few minutes ago I'd been ready to rip their heads off, and now I was sitting there, nodding and looking utterly placid and totally agreeable.  But in my defense, I was pregnant, so I was _supposed to be even moodier than usual.  "I don't want you guys to feel like you need to hide things from me though." I told them.  "We're in this together, right?"_

"Right." Jet immediately turned to return to the kitchen, pleased that I was done being angry and obviously wanting to leave before I changed my mind.  Spike, however, decided to stroll over to the window, lighting a cigarette as he looked out at the stars surrounding us as we moved from one planet to the next.

"Nice view?" I asked him after he'd stood there for some time, having half finished his cigarette while still staring out at the stars.  I knew that he only ever stood there for a long time when something was bothering him and he _wanted_ to talk about it, but didn't really know what to say.

"Eh," he grunted slightly, shrugging and taking a deep drag before walking over to the coffee table so he could drop the ashes off in the ashtray there.  "This bother you?" he asked, holding up his cigarette and arching his eyebrows slightly.  It wasn't exactly the epitome of fatherly concern, but coming from Spike, it was nice.

"No, you're fine." I smiled slightly.  "I'm not going to make you smoke outside again."  I referred to the brief period when an acquaintance of Jet's had stayed with us, and we'd all been made to smoke outside since it bothered her.  Spike and I had not been on the best of terms at the time, but we had definitely agreed that the smoking rule was a terrible injustice.

"Thanks." He took another deep drag, stretching slightly and glancing at the window as though he was trying to decide whether to sit down across from me or just go back to his stargazing.

"So, who's the guy you're going after tonight?" I wanted to know.

"Just some random bounty.  Tried to kill some rich bitch and now she's got a price on his head.  Nothing really interesting." He told me, sitting down and holding the still smoking stick between his fingers, tapping the end on the edge of the ashtray again.  "You aren't really mad, are you ?"

"Huh?" I blinked at him, a bit confused.  I'd just picked my book up from where it oftentimes sat on the coffee table, so I hadn't been paying much attention to his question.  "Oh, no, I'm not mad.  Just a little annoyed that you guys thought you couldn't tell me something like that."

"Well, you did kinda go crazy when you found out, so it's not like we were worried for nothing." He pointed out.  I have to hand it to Spike.  He can be worried about how angry I am one moment, and then five minutes later, he's back to pushing all my buttons in a way that I can't help but find extremely irritating.

"Spike…just shut up okay?" I really didn't have the patience for a full-fledged battle with him at the moment, and I didn't appreciate his completely inconsiderate nature.

"Faye, you know what?" he sounded a bit quiet, almost subdued, as though he were trying to tell me something important.  He stamped out his cigarette, and I knew that whatever had him staring out that window was on the tip of his tongue.  "You know…we were talking about you.  Jet and I were.  Talking about bounties and stuff."

"Oh?" I debated whether it would be appropriate to read while he was talking to me, since he was obviously trying to get to the point but failing miserably, and I was getting a bit impatient.  However, the memory of two weeks ago when he had told me about his mother was still fresh enough in my mind that I decided that I should be as considerate as possible now that he'd found a new level of trust in me.  I didn't want to ruin that.

"Well, yeah." Spike was having some sort of difficulty communicating whatever it was that he wanted to tell me, so I knew I'd just have to be patient for the time being.  "See…cause we knew you were being kinda difficult about the whole thing, so we didn't want to give you a reason to throw a fit or anything."

"That was thoughtful of you." I gave him a caustic smirk, but he ignored it.

"And we thought about just cutting our budget and waiting until you could work again to go out after bounties, but we couldn't really do that because with…you know, the kid…it's kind of expensive, so we knew that we'd just have to keep going out to work no matter how pissy you got.  You know, cause we have to…I guess I have to…you know, take care of you now." Spike finished, looking extremely uncomfortable as he fidgeted slightly, picking at invisible lint on the arm of his chair and staring at his lap fixedly.

"So, you mean…" I didn't know what he meant.  Was he trying to tell me that he wanted to take responsibility in this situation?  Was he just saying that he cared about me and didn't want me to misunderstand his intentions?  Or was he trying to confuse the hell out of me?  He was doing a pretty good job of the last one, that was for sure.

"Faye," he was nervous, so he reached for his pack of cigarettes, but as soon as he pulled one out, he gave me a weighing glance before putting it back away and tossing the pack on the table.  "I think…maybe sometimes you forget that we're all…you know, we're all companions here.  We don't want anything to happen to you.  Nothing _has to happen to you.  You know what I mean?"_

"You don't want to risk it?" I guessed.  I didn't know whether I should be touched at the concern or angry at their lack of faith in my abilities.  "It's not like I can't do field work anymore.  Jet was the one who decided that I was too far along."

"Yeah, but he did that cause...it's my fault, see?" Spike seemed pretty embarrassed.  "He told me a little bit ago that he knows you can still fight and all that, and that the hassle of keeping you out of commission wouldn't be worth it for the small amount of risk you'd be in.  You barely ever get hurt anyway, since you're kinda careful."

"It's because I'm only backup." I corrected.  "I'm never supposed to really see any action, and we both know it."  I knew I sounded a little bitter, but after the incident with the hacker, I understood their concern for me a lot more.

"That's not it…it's just," Spike looked a bit frustrated, but he pushed forward.  "Jet pulled you out now because he said that if he let you go on, I'd get us both in trouble."

"You?" I almost laughed at that.  Sure, Spike made mistakes, but I made them too, and it wasn't as though Spike would be carrying all that extra weight in front of him like some sadistic frontal burden.  "I'm sorry, I'm not really getting what you're saying here, Spike."

"He says…I worry too much about you, and that I'd get us in trouble because the reason we do well is that usually, we watch out for each other, but we don't act…you know, really protective or anything.  So…yeah." Spike looked extremely uncomfortable.  "I'm pretty sure he would have stopped you pretty soon anyway, but he doesn't trust us working together with something like…that."

"So, he thinks you'll get us both killed because you're _so_ protective of me?" I snorted, laughing slightly.  "Um, does Jet _really_ know us?"  Spike shrugged noncommittally and leaned back in his chair while I eyed the cigarettes, wondering vaguely if it was really _that_ imperative that I not smoke at all while I was pregnant.  I could have really used a smoke right then.

"Dinner!" Jet called from the kitchen, bringing in a big casserole dish filled with something that looked completely unappetizing and was likely just as tasty as it appeared.

"Looks…uh…" Spike didn't seem to know what to say to the still bubbling mixture, so he just made a face at it as Ed, lured by the promise of food, came racing into the room and leapt over the back of the couch to sit beside me with a broad smile on her face.

"Morning Faye-faye!  Is baby ready yet?" Ed leaned over to press an ear to my stomach, as she often did these days.  I didn't bother to remind her that it was night, as it was oftentimes hard to tell when we were traveling between planets.

"Back off, Ed." Spike sounded casual enough, but I could see the glances he kept shooting Ed as though he thought she would just start jumping on top of me at any moment.  I rolled my eyes.

"Ed, did you know that Spike's going out for a bounty after dinner?" I asked her, feeling friendly toward the girl just because she seemed to think my baby was such an important topic of conversation.

"Oh, Ed knew." Ed nodded.  "Ed had to find the bad man for Spike-person, but they said Faye-faye wasn't going to know this time."

"Hard to keep secrets on a ship this size." I commented, looking at the pile of greenish brown gunk on my plate.  What the hell was Jet trying to do?  Kill me?  "It's nice to know that I was the only one on the ship that this was kept from."

"Faye, please." Jet gave me a pleading look, as though he honestly expected my anger from before to return so suddenly.  "We already explained this to you."

"Jet…is this garbage?" Spike had spent several minutes examining his food, and apparently he was ready to hazard a guess as to what it might be made from.

"It's spinach and bean casserole." He informed us, much to my disgust.  Just when I'd been working up the courage to eat a forkful of it, too.  "It's good for you.  Got lots of protein."

"You know," Spike spoke up again after tasting a hesitant bit of the concoction and pulling a priceless face of disgust.  "Faye's pregnant.  Do you really want to kill her baby?"  My eyes went a bit wide at that, not because he was openly referring to the pregnancy so much as that he was seeming so exceptionally protective of me that evening.  Even if he was just joking, it hit a nerve with me.  First with the chat about bounty hunting and why I wasn't allowed to do it, then his warning to Ed, and now he was questioning the safety of the food?  I wondered if maybe it was just that he sometimes seemed a bit more macho right before he went on missions, and it sometimes made him extra gruff or aloof, but I had never seen him acting protective of me before.  I didn't know whether I liked it or not, so I just decided that until I could make sense of it, I would prefer to ignore it and pretend nothing had changed between us.  I still wished that sometimes.  Before that night we spent together…well, I suppose things had really started to change after Vicious died.  I think that's odd, but I guess that even Spike wasn't imperturbable to something as crushing as death could be.  Julia and Vicious had been two people that he had known and cared about very much.  I suppose in the end that he hated Vicious, but could he _really_ hate the man who had for so long been his best friend?  Spike still confused me.

"If you have a problem with my food, why don't you take over kitchen duty?" Jet fell back on his reliable response to any questioning of his culinary abilities.  It was true that he was a horrible cook, but I was pretty sure that I was worse, and I assumed as much from Spike as well, considering he couldn't even make tea correctly.

"Ed could make food!" Ed volunteered in excitement.

"No!" The rest of us answered as though we were one person, and though Ed did look momentarily saddened by this, she was over the disappointment fast enough, and after she finished her dinner, she raced off with Ein.  I sometimes wondered how she amused herself all day, and though I liked to think that the mind of a child was creative enough to find a way to play even on a ship full of bounty hunters, Ed wasn't exactly the typical child.  Although, she had been known to spend hours amusing herself with an empty egg carton, so I wasn't sure I _really wanted to know how she spent her free time._

"I better get going soon." Spike had barely touched his food, and I couldn't blame him.  It was disgusting, but I had to eat _something, so I was shoveling it down as best I could.  "I don't want to miss my chance to get this guy easily."_

"Okay, we'll be helping you from back here." I gave him a nod, trying to sound as helpful as possible.  I had this horrible feeling in my stomach knowing that I was about to experience the first bounty mission in almost as long as I'd been on the ship where I wasn't even going to be any help.  Damn what they said about my medical skills, because to me, it wasn't the same thing.  I think it's the tension of knowing that the action is happening and simply having to sit on my hands, completely useless and utterly unable to change how things turned out.  "I mean, I guess Jet will.  I'll be…just…yeah."

"We'll be backing you up." Jet gave me a sympathetic smile, and I really wanted to punch him.  Why should he feel sorry for me?  Just because _he was doing something helpful and I was just going to be sitting around bothering him…I wondered if maybe I should feel sorry for __him.  I don't think he realized how antsy I was at the moment, and how much I was going to likely make him suffer until the time when Spike returned to the Bebop._

"This shouldn't take long." Spike told us, but I could have sworn it was meant for me.  What did _I_ care?  Okay…really, who was I kidding?  He must have been able to tell how much this was bothering me, how much I worried that for some odd reason, this would be the _one_ time where he'd need my help there with him, and because I was back on the ship, he'd end up getting in serious trouble.  As I sighed at the pathetic nature of my existence, I felt the sharp jolt that told me we had reached our destination, one of the various moons of Jupiter, where I took it that this bounty would be found.

"Be careful." I couldn't stop the words, or the worry behind them as he turned to leave.  I felt something like a vague shadow of the desperation that had gripped me when Spike went after Vicious by himself.  That seemed so long ago, but being reminded of the feelings of helplessness and panic did nothing to calm my emotions.  I bit my lip as I watched him leave with a casual wave.  He would come back, and everything would be fine.  I had no reason to get so worked up over some routine bounty, and yet…maybe it was just the emotions of the pregnancy and the frustration of being cut from ground missions.  I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to do _something_ so that he wouldn't leave me.  I so desperately did not want him to leave me then, and I was terrified to feel tears welling in my eyes as I heard the roar of the Swordfish taking off.

"Right then, let me pull up the communications on the Swordfish so we can talk to him." Jet gave me an encouraging smile, but it wasn't helping me at all.  I shook my head, standing up and trying not to tremble.

"I'm…tired." I managed the feeble excuse before I ran to my room.  I didn't want him to see me worry or cry over Spike.  I realized that Jet _knew I felt something for Spike, obviously.  But still…I suppose that I wasn't ready to admit just how strongly my emotions controlled me when it came to that particular subject._

"Faye?  You okay?" Jet's voice called after me as I closed the door, cutting myself off.  It took a moment for me to realize that I was in Spike's room, not mine.  I felt embarrassed at the stupid mistake, but then…hadn't I meant to come in here?  I had been in his room very few times before, even when he was gone for days at a time, half dead after some mission that didn't go exactly as planned.  I think that part of it was that I knew Spike didn't go through my things, and I afforded him the same consideration.  This wasn't about going through his things though, and I knew that.  I just…wanted something…something to make my heart stop beating it's way out of my chest.

"Spike," I sighed at the sound of his name, moving over to the bed and sitting down to look around.  I couldn't believe how calm I was feeling already, surrounded in the smell and feel of him.  It was like being embraced by him, and it was just what I needed.  I laid back, breathing in deeply at the scent of his hair on the pillow, so thick I could have suffocated with a smile on my face.  I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and wondered offhand if I was still worried, or if I was only crying at how pathetic my life had become.  So much joy from something so simple…it was truly sad, and yet…I felt my eyes close, my senses shutting down as I fell asleep there, lying on Spike's bed and hoping that he'd be back soon.

*****

The End (Of Part 10, That Is)


	11. Oh, This Is YOUR Bed? Silly Me

My head hurts a little right now…but never fear!  I feel like writing, and where there's a will, there's a way, or at least a fresh pot of coffee!  That's all I need, really, and then it's a simple matter of typing way into the wee hours of the morning.  Enjoy!

*****

One More Try

Part 11

*****

Laying on Spike's bed, soaking in the comfort of his presence and his smell thick in the bedding, I was totally unaware of tiredness creeping through me and causing my eyelids to grow heavier and heavier until I fell away from the world of wakefulness that I had been in.  One second, it was as though I was simply taking long breaths, letting my tears subside, and then as if it had happened while I was blinking, I opened my eyes again to the sound of Spike's door opening slowly.  For a moment, I was utterly confused, of course.  I thought that it must be Jet coming to check on me, but how had he known I'd gone to Spike's room instead of my own?  I hadn't heard him calling out my name…

"Faye?" Spike's voice brought my awareness to a sharp peak.  Not only was I awake, I realized that I must have fallen asleep, and I was completely embarrassed to have been caught sneaking into Spike's room by Spike himself.  What could I possibly say to explain myself without giving away too much?  "What…are you okay?"  My eyes must have been wide with terrified panic.  I'd been caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar, and my still slightly groggy mind was casting about uselessly for some sort of explanation that Spike would accept for why I was sleeping on his bed.  And then I _really_ looked at him, and all concern for my own situation evaporated immediately.

"You're bleeding!" I exclaimed, almost falling over as I jumped out of bed and rushed to him.  Sometimes, like when I was still half-asleep and more concerned with the blood clotting over the right side of Spike's face than with appearing graceful, I forgot that I was indeed very pregnant and in no real condition to be jumping around.  "What happened?  I missed the mission…I must have lost track of time…Let me see it." I was trying to pull his face down while he was trying to grab my shoulders to settle my balance.

"It's nothing, I was just a little careless." Spike tried to brush away my questing fingers, but I wasn't about to be shoved aside easily.  "Why are you in here?  Were you sleeping?"

"That's not important.  Sit down and let me go get my bag…" I rushed out of the room as quickly as my condition allowed, not wanting Spike to see the guilty blush that stained my cheeks as his questions reminded me of something other than his bleeding face.  I hadn't meant it as a distraction, but at least while I was treating him, I figured that I could avoid his questions easily enough.  He'd likely forget the whole thing after he'd had a bit of sleep, so I seemed to be in luck.  Arranging my face into my best busy and irritable expression, I returned to a slightly mopey looking Spike complete with my medical supplies.

"Hey," he began, but I wasn't about to let him get a word in edgewise.

"I take it you got the guy, then?  Turn him in already?" I asked in a brisk voice as I set about scrubbing the dried blood from the side of his face.  He made a slightly impatient noise, but it wasn't as though I really cared if he was going to be a baby about my avoidance of the topic.  It was none of his business, as far as I was concerned.

"Uh, yeah, he wasn't too tough." Spike answered.

"Says the man with blood all over his face." I teased lightly as I worked at the blood surrounding the real wound, a split over his eyebrow that wasn't entirely deep, just extremely messy.  "What did he do, smack you with a baseball bat?"

"No, he had shit aim, so when I cornered him after he'd run out of bullets, he tried to take me out with a good swift crack to the head, but it didn't really work out the way he planned."  Spike smirked slightly, obviously pleased to have proven the bounty wrong.  "You should've seen him when I finished _calming_ him."

"Spike, you know, just because some guy mars your beautiful face, that's no reason to go crazy." I teased him as I pressed a rag soaked in antiseptic to the inch-long wound.  Spike's mouth twitched slightly, but I couldn't tell if it was from the sting of the liquid or the irony of my advice.

"Oh really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows before immediately learning that he shouldn't do that when one of them had a deep split just above it.  "I seem to remember you clocking some guy for _almost_ hitting your face with a throwing knife."

"Well…that's different." I smiled slightly, remembering the incident clearly enough.  "You don't need your face to get by in the world.  I do."  There was a long silence as I pulled out a pair of butterfly stitches, applying them to his wound carefully.  "There you go." My voice was more serious for some reason.  The atmosphere in the room had been light enough a few minutes ago, but now it felt like a lead weight pressing down on me.

"You know…you shouldn't think that." Spike finally spoke up as I was closing the antiseptic and putting it back in my bag.

"What?" My voice wavered slightly, and I knew that I couldn't possibly meet Spike's eyes right then or I'd likely burst from the tension between us.

"You know what." His voice was impatient, and I felt a bit guilty for putting him off once more.  "We've been through this, Faye.  You're not just…you can't keep…we all care about you, you know.  It's not because you have a pretty face."

"That's why I can't leave." I told him, zipping the bag closed and sighing slightly.  "You guys are the only people in the world who give a shit about Faye Valentine.  People see me, and all they see is my face, my body.  They don't care what I have to say, what I do with my life, where I'm from, what I've seen, where I'm going.  Guys…just want to see how fast they can get me to do whatever they want.  Girls just want me to go away.  It's not that way for you.  You get _respect_.  No one respects some slut in skimpy clothes, no matter how hard she can kick."

"Faye…" Spike's my hands with one of his, and it struck me how much larger his hands were.  They seemed almost clumsy, but I knew better.  "Don't get so down on yourself.  It's not like that."

"Please…just don't." I shook my head.  "I know how people see me, Spike.  You don't have to force yourself to pretend it's a lie."

"Faye, what the hell do you care about other people?" Spike's voice was a little angry, a little impatient, and I wasn't all that surprised.  I was shooting down everything he said even though he was being nice to me, which was rare enough.  Well…it wasn't _that_ strange anymore, but I guess I thought that he didn't want to get in a major battle with anyone carrying his child.  Go figure.  "They're just people."

"Easy for you to say.  They don't see you as a worthless piece of trash." I insisted, but he snorted derisively at my assertion.

"You'd be surprised.  Just because I can kick someone's ass, that doesn't make me Mr. Popular."  Spike told me, the bitterness in his voice causing me to look up for the first time since I'd put my things away.  He offered me a slight smile to let me see that he wasn't really angry with me, and I felt his hand squeeze mine slightly.  I think that was about the time that my heart leapt out of my chest and I died.  "But you know what?  You think I got this far in life by worrying about how a bunch of strangers see me?  I don't give a shit about other people.  They've got their lives, and I've got mine."

"You're like that with everyone." I told him.  "It's not easy for normal humans to block out the whole world."

"I don't block out the whole world." Spike tilted his head slightly, frowning.  "Just the parts that don't matter to me.  You should know that by now."

"I should?" For some reason, my eyes felt as though they were very wide at that moment, and I didn't think I could possibly look away from the piercing gaze that Spike had fixed on me.

"Idiot." Spike's voice was soft despite the insult.  "You wanna know something?  You know more about me than anyone else, and you still act like you can't wrap your mind around some of the simplest things."  My mind was going into overload then.  I was almost positive that his thumb was stroking my palm softly, that or he had some sort of nervous tic I didn't know about.  And then he hits me with something like _that_?  I knew that some of the things he'd told me Jet didn't know anything about, but still…

"Even Julia?" I couldn't stop my voice from shaking as I managed the question that immediately came to mind.  This was one of the very few times I brought up Julia in a manor that wasn't condescending or taunting.  I think it shocked both of us, and Spike was struck speechless for a few moments.

"You're not Julia." He answered after a while, dropping his gaze and pulling his hand away awkwardly, fiddling with the cloth on his pants.

"I know." My voice was utterly deflated, and I felt like I should just leave, but I was feeling stubborn.  "Did…did she know about…things?"

"Some stuff, I guess so." Spike answered, still a bit uncomfortable.  I couldn't blame him for being hesitant to talk about her in front of me.  I'd abused the topic enough times that he was likely feeling very defensive.  "But…you know.  She wasn't my friend, she was my lover."

"You guys weren't ever friends?" I didn't know a lot about how Spike and Julia decided that they needed to start sneaking around behind Vicious' back, as I didn't really want to romanticize the story any more than it already was.

"Well…kinda." Spike shrugged.  "But not like…not like Jet or you."  It was so nice to hear that I had some piece of Spike that Julia hadn't touched yet, I felt like I might burst.  I wanted to do something to show him how much it meant to me, but I didn't know how to express my gratitude in words, so I simply reached forward and squeezed one of his hands softly.

"Do you…do you think that you'll ever be over it?" I didn't want to sound too hopeful; I hated being vulnerable.

"Sometimes I think that I'll die if I can't see her again." Spike answered after a pause, glancing up at me and licking his lips.  "Sometimes I go a day or a week without even thinking about her, and when I realize that…I feel like such an ass."

"You think…she can see you?" I asked, unsure whether I was feeling nervous or sympathetic.

"I hope not all the time." Spike actually winked at me then.  My face exploded in color as my eyes widened in embarrassment.

"What do you think she thinks about…um…" I patted my stomach gingerly.

"Honestly?" Spike considered it for a few moments.  "I think she wouldn't care that much.  She was never…never really jealous or anything.  Maybe she'd even be glad that I'm happy."

"This…makes you happy?" I had a lump in my throat the size of a full-grown cat, I was sure.  I couldn't breathe or swallow.  Spike shrugged and reached forward, touching my swollen stomach almost as though he were gingerly petting an animal that might bite him.

"I don't know what it makes me feel." He told me after a while.

"You make me happy…some times." I couldn't believe I'd said that, and I had to add the last two words as though they were a way of taking everything else back.

"No, I just piss you off." Spike chuckled slightly.  Obviously, he thought I'd been joking.

"Turnabout's fair play." I laughed nervously.  How I'd escaped that one, I wasn't sure.  And then, with a resurgence of embarrassment, I realized that his hand was still on my stomach.

"Weird to think about, isn't it?" Spike was staring at the bulge, and I felt extremely self-conscious.  "Who'd have thought…the two of us having a kid?  Bizarre."

"Yeah…bizarre." I wanted to live in that moment.  It was almost like we were a couple, sitting there talking about our baby, even if it wasn't in the most…couple type of way.  "I…I should go to bed."

"Faye?" Spike stopped me from leaving with his voice.  "Thanks."  I didn't know what he was thanking me for.  I couldn't begin to think clearly when he looked at me like that.

"Yeah…yeah." I paused at his door, hesitating a second longer than I probably should have.  "I was scared.  When you left alone tonight, I was scared you wouldn't come back.  I felt…kinda better in here.  I'm sorry, I won't do it again."  I couldn't look at him as I spoke.  It was too embarrassing, and yet…I felt like I should be able to admit that after the conversation we'd just had.

"It's okay." Spike answered.  "I knew you were worried already.  I just wanted to hear you say it."

"I hate being at a disadvantage." I told him, smiling sheepishly and shaking my head as I looked back at him.  He stood up and moved toward me.  I was rooted to the spot.

"You aren't." he assured me.  "Sometimes I think that…never mind.  I'm just tired.  I need to shut up."

"Yeah…me too." I blushed and nearly ran out of the room.  What was he about to say?  I couldn't sleep that night.

----------

"Reading that damn book again?" Spike offered me a slight smile as he sat next to me on the couch.  It had been a couple of weeks since the embarrassing scene in his room, and we seemed to think that if we just pretended it never happened, we could still talk to each other without our faces catching on fire.

"What? Am I disturbing you?" I asked him, shooting a dry look in his direction.

"Nah, you're okay." Spike flipped on the television and immediately began going through the channels while slumping back on the couch lazily.

"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow at him after several minutes of this.

"What?" He didn't even look at me, continuing to channel surf with his feet up on the table.

"I'm reading." I told him.  This made him glance at me, and he gave me a look like I'd grown another head.

"Yeah?" he seemed to be very confused as to how that statement was relevant to anything.

"So turn it down or turn it off." I indicated the television, it's thin screen glowing and flickering with the images chasing across it.

"You could just read somewhere else." Spike told me, turning back to flip through the channels again.  That did it.  I slammed the book down in my lap.

"You aren't even _watching_ anything!" I flung out a hand, waving it at the television to show that he hadn't decided on a channel yet.

"Oh yeah?  Well you've read that book about thirty times already!  What's the point?" Spike turned to face me, back stiffening.

"Have you even picked this book up _once_?" I asked him angrily.  I'd been purposefully leaving it laying around for him to look at for months now and I was almost positive my thoughtfulness had gone completely unnoticed.

"Whatever, like I need to." Spike snorted and rolled his eyes.  "It's like, your fucking bible or something."

"At least I don't worship the mind sucking TV!" I gestured angrily at the screen in question.

"Like you don't watch TV?" Spike asked angrily.  "You're just pissed that I'm not being as crazy about the kid as you are!  I don't need some book to show me how to raise a baby.  I can figure it out on my own perfectly fine."

"Oh really?" I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms, a considerable task considering the stomach that was in my way.  "What would you do if the baby was crying in the middle of the night and you found it was running a fever when you went to check on it?"

"Okay, first of all," Spike began ticking things off on his fingers.  "I wouldn't even check on the damn thing if it was gonna cry in the middle of the night.  I'd make _you_ get it.  And even if I _did_ check on it and something was wrong, I'd just give it to you."

"Your parenting skills are amazing, Spike, let me just tell you that right now." I told him sarcastically.  "What if something happened to me?  Would you just throw our kid in a dumpster or something?"

"Maybe." Spike turned back to the television.  Obviously, he was now teasing me.  That, or he wanted to die.

"You're such an idiot." I rolled my eyes and picked up my book again, trying to ignore the fact that he was now turning up the volume in an obvious attempt to make me strangle him.  "I'm going to shoot you."

"You can't hide a gun with that stomach." Spike replied without any worry.

"What?  That didn't even make any _sense_." I snorted.  "I'm buying _you_ some books so you can learn how to come up with a witty come back.  First you'll need to learn to _read_ of course."

"Oh yeah?  Well I'm buying _you_ some fucking Midol so you'll stop being such a bitch all the time." Spike shot back.

"That was weak." I retorted, rolling my eyes again.  "You're stupid."

"Oh, that one really hurt." Spike wasn't even paying attention to the TV anymore.  "I'm gonna go cry in my room now so I can learn how to be as cool as _you_."

"What the hell's wrong with you today?" I asked him angrily.  "Did Ed eat all your Lucky Charms or something?"

"Shut up, like you don't eat them too." Spike was very touchy about his choice of breakfast foods, although since we could rarely afford _good_ cereal, it was almost understandable.  He turned back to the television, rolling his eyes at me in irritation.  "You're such a fucking bitch some times."

"You're such an idiotic prick _all_ the time!" I shot back.  "I don't know why I even offered to let you take part in raising _my_ child.  You're completely irresponsible, you'd probably put liquor in it's bottle to make it go to sleep faster."

"That works?" Spike quirked an eyebrow and glanced at my book.  "That's pretty fucking clever.  Maybe I _should_ read that."

"Oh, shut up, you asshole." I grumbled.  I couldn't believe I was actually in _love_ with this man.

"You shut up." He retorted in a classic move of Spike Spiegel maturity.

"You started talking first." I pointed out.  He did, after all.

"I was being nice.  You're the one that started bitching at me about stupid shit." Spike contested.

"I wouldn't have started _anything_ if you weren't being a pain in the ass." I shot back.  "You know what _I_ think?"

"Do I care?" Spike gave me a deadpan look.

"I think that you'll be a bad influence on my baby.  I don't want you anywhere near it."  I wasn't really serious, but I just wanted to win the argument.

"It's _my_ kid too." Spike reminded me.

"Oh, is it?" I made my eyes go wide, looking as utterly confused as I could manage.  "Are you really sure?"

"Don't pull that shit." Spike snapped, looking a lot angrier than he had at any other point in the argument.  He actually tossed the remote aside.  "You know it is."

"Do I?" I asked him, taking no end of pleasure in seeing him get so upset about something that only three months ago he himself had suggested.  I set the book aside and began examining my fingernails casually.  "It's not like you're the _only_ man I've ever slept with, and after all—hey!" I was cut off when he grabbed the hand I had been admiring and yanked it toward him to get my attention.

"Don't." There wasn't a lot of light in the room, but I could still see that his eyes were deadly serious.  "Just don't."

"What are you…" I faded off, feeling extremely confused and nervous at the same time.  For some reason, I kept seeing flashes of that scene in the hallway, what seemed ages ago.  When Spike had kissed me.  Was he going to kiss me now?  Why was he getting so out of hand about something so stupid?  Of course the baby was his, I had already _told_ him it was.  I mean, it was almost…almost as though… "You're jealous." I was just as shocked to realize it as I was that the words had escaped my lips.

"No I'm not." The words were lame, and they lacked any sort of conviction.  "I'm not."

"Oh really?  Then why do you care _whose_ kid it is?" I asked him, trying to ignore the fact that his face, so close to mine, was making me tremble.  And the way his eyes were boring into mine, his jaw clenched tight with anger and determination, it was making me feel light-headed.  "My…wrist hurts."

"Sorry." He released me immediately, his eyes dropping before he nearly fled the room.  I know, I know, it was a cheap way to get out of the situation, but I was panicking!  What was going on between Spike and I lately?  First he's protective, then he's jealous?  Almost possessive…like maybe…maybe…

*****

The End (Of Part 11, That Is)


	12. Since When Is Jet the Official Relations...

And it's time for me to write another one of those "update" things.  Technically…it's not.  I'm not late or anything at the moment, because I can't even post until I get my other update file from Jade and she's gone AWOL, so yeah.  Now everyone has to suffer because of her likely broken internet connection, and therefore everyone should damn Comcast digital cable.  Damn them and their stupid weak ass cable connection!  Daaaaaaaaamn them!  Okay, I feel done.  Let's get to the good stuff.

*****

One More Try

Part 12

*****

Spike was sneaking into my room and watching me sleep.  I knew this for a fact, and although I was sure that it was him jimmying the lock almost every night to check up on me, I might not have even noticed the fact that even though I locked the door at night, it was unlocked in the morning.  I might not have noticed how certain things in my room were moving every now and then.  Like a tube of lipstick that seemed to have found it's way from my bedside table all the way to the top of my dresser through no action of my own.  I might not have noticed the way that sometimes when I woke up for a glass of water at night, more often than not Spike wasn't snoring loudly when I passed his room.  I could have written all these things off as coincidences.  Maybe I was too tired to lock the door right, and though I thought I had pressed the lock in, I had gone through the motions and gone to bed without doing it correctly.  It would be perfectly reasonable to think that I had been using the lipstick and set it down somewhere else because I got distracted, and therefore didn't remember it happening.  And just because Spike wasn't announcing his somnolent state to the rest of the ship with loud nasal breathing, that didn't mean that he _wasn't_ sleeping.  Even if he was suffering from a little insomnia, that was no business of mine, and I wouldn't have pursued it, I'm sure.

But he slipped up, you see.  One morning, I woke up to see that Spike was in my chair, slumped over asleep in what looked like a hellishly uncomfortable position.  Now, I'm a reasonably logical woman when it comes to most things.  And though Spike usually likes to drive on the Logic Overpass, that didn't mean that I couldn't think about the situation reasonably.  I was perfectly capable of puzzling it out about six hours later.  But when I woke up and saw that, I had no idea what to do.  I actually thought I was still asleep, having some weird dream which included Spike sleeping in my room, but after a few moments of blinking and then rubbing my eyes vigorously to make sure I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing, my mind confirmed that it was indeed Spike sleeping on my chair, for reasons that were completely beyond me.  When I prompted my mind to come up with some course of action, it became disturbingly silent, until I realized that I had no idea what to do, and apparently the best course of action would be to try and go back to sleep.  Perhaps when I woke up again, things would be normal this time.

This actually worked…sort of.  When I woke up again, Spike wasn't there, but the chair smelled like him, so I knew that what I'd seen earlier had really happened.  This really bothered me, but I couldn't possibly bring it up to Spike because…well, it was just too embarrassing.  What had he been doing in there?  I knew it couldn't be that my chair was more comfortable than sleeping in a bed, that was for sure.  I decided that I'd just have to sleep light so that I could catch any further intrusions.  So that night, I dozed lightly until I heard something that sounded suspiciously like the lock of my bedroom door being picked.

I knew it had to be Spike.  I mean, really, who else would sneak into my room in the middle of the night?  If Ed wanted in, she'd knock like a normal human being, as would Jet.  Of course, Jet wouldn't visit in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency, whereas Ed was all too likely to try and get me up for checkers or something at a god awful hour.  It had happened before, and it would happen again, I knew.  Now, I wouldn't have thought Spike should show any interest in my room at all, day or night.  But I knew him well enough to know that if he _did_ want something in there, he'd be damn sneaky about getting it.  Heaven forbid he ask my _permission_ to borrow my perfume or go through my underwear or whatever it was he was doing in a girl's room in the middle of the night.  I hate to sound so suspicious of his motives, but really, what the hell reason does a guy have to sneak into a lady's room at night?  Twice, even?  It obviously had to be something that I could tease him about later, or something that would cause me to smack him really hard.  Probably both.

So imagine my surprise when my barely open eyes watched him come in, sit in the chair, and just stare at me.  At first I thought that the tiny slit I was watching him through was glinting in the dim light, and he was acting innocent purely for my benefit.  But then…what about the staring?  If he'd been caught, you would have thought he'd make a run for it or try to give me some half-ass explanation about how he was auctioning my pantyhose off to lonely criminals in an effort to help ends meet or something like that.  Hey, he'd actually suggested that once, though I was almost positive he was just trying to piss me off at the time.  He wouldn't _really_ auction off my personals…well, probably not.

Anyway, that's beside the point.  What I'm trying to say here is that I caught him watching me sleep.  I let my eyes close the rest of the way after he'd been sitting in that chair for a while, because I figured that if he got up and started raiding my makeup chest, I could hear it and stop him.  However, he just…sat there.  I didn't look at the clock, so I'm not really sure how long he was there, but when I _did_ finally hear something, I peeked again to see that he was coming toward me, stifling a yawn so that he wouldn't wake me up with the noise of it.  Yeah, I know.  Really sneaky.

I wanted to sit up and say "Ah ha!" or something equally smug.  Perhaps I could come up with some really snide comment about how if he wanted, I could tape myself sleeping and he could have the tape for the low price of a couple hundred bucks or something like that.  However, even though my smartass bitch gland was going into overdrive with about a billion things I could say, the stupid girly part of my brain had temporarily paralyzed my entire body because it seemed that Spike was standing directly over me, leaning down to get a better look at my face.  What was he _doing_ anyway?  I was still expecting this whole thing to turn into him raiding my room for spare cash or something like that, but as he leaned closer, I let my eyes close so that he wouldn't notice I was watching him.  Could he tell I was awake?  Was that why he was acting so strangely?

I felt his hand on my forehead, moving my hair back out of my face casually, and I had to fight the instant urge my eyes had to fly open and gape at him in shock.  He didn't say anything, and even though I thought that he might, he didn't kiss me or try to molest me or anything like that.  He just brushed my hair back and then left the room.  I peeked again as he was closing the door just to be sure that he really was leaving, and then I sat up for half the night trying to figure out why the hell Spike would want to come in my room and watch me sleep.  I mean, really, how entertaining could it be?  I decided not to think about it, but the fact of the matter is that almost every morning after that, I would notice my unlocked door and feel this strange fluttering feeling to know that he'd been back, watching me sleep again.

This whole sleeping business really started to weigh on my mind, and I came up with the theory that since I was over seven months pregnant, he thought I was ready to pop and was just trying to make sure the baby didn't take me by surprise while I slept.  However, this theory really seemed weak to me, so I decided to go to the only person who might have insight as to why men were stupid and made no sense.  Jet.

----------

"What did Spike do this time?" Jet asked as he stood washing the dishes while I stared at his back, trying to say something less embarrassing than simply spilling the whole sleep-watching thing in one breath.

"Spike?  What do you mean?" I asked, feigning innocence and batting my lashes.  Batting my lashes helped me to act innocent.  This is funny to me, since it also helps me act slutty.  Maybe this only worked since I had pretty eyes, so if I distracted a man with them, my acting skills could be sub-par without being called into question.  Who knows?  As I just explained, men are stupid and make no sense.

"You've been standing at the counter trying to talk for about five minutes.  The only topic you have a hard time blurting out your feelings about is Spike.  So that must be what you want to talk about." Jet explained, turning to face me as he dried a plate.

Okay, I revise my previous statement.  _Some_ men are stupid and make no sense.  Jet was dangerously perceptive, and it was coming to the point where if he was a bit less…masculine looking, I might have called his gender into question.  Because really, men aren't supposed to understand emotions _that_ well.  It was starting to worry me.  Maybe he was psychic, and he was just pretending to understand us.  But really, maybe he was just that clever.

"Okay…I need to talk to you." I decided not to worry about sounding smart and calm about this.  I had long since learned that Jet did not think I was extremely smart, and he never found me to be exceptionally calm, and he didn't seem to think this made me less of a person.  Sometimes I wondered if Jet was a little hotter…maybe I could fall in love with _him_ instead, as it seemed like the whole thing would go a lot smoother and would involve a lot less pain and secret keeping.  However, I suspect that Jet's looks weren't really the problem.  I mean, he wasn't _that_ unattractive, compared to some of the guys I'd had to sleep with before.  You know, debt collectors and things like that.  Anyway, I think that what really sealed the deal between Jet and I was that Jet was far too stable and sane and not nearly as bad for me as Spike.  I seem to have a problem with my ability to choose who I fall in love with.  I need to pick the most impossible guy I can find.  That's my ideal type.

"Got that." Jet nodded expectantly as he dried the silverware and began to put it away.  "It _is_ about Spike, isn't it?"

"Uh…yeah." I licked my lips and turned to the living room.  I could still hear the shower running, so it seemed like he wouldn't hear anything that was going on unless he decided that he needed to be sneaky.  He'd been doing that a lot lately, so it wouldn't be completely unprecedented.  "See, I think he's up to something…no, I mean, I _know_ he's up to something, but I'm not quite sure what, and I thought maybe you could help me figure it out."

"Okay." Jet was still the picture of patience, drying a cup and placing it in it's cupboard without showing any surprise or real interest in the conversation.  He must have been sick of being the mediator between Spike and me.  I mean, I knew that I talked to Jet quite a bit about Spike-ish problems, so I guess Spike probably did the same thing with me.  At least, it seemed that way.  Jet knew an awful lot about the inner workings of our relationship.  Maybe more than we did.

"Okay, well," I darted another glance toward the living room.  I could still hear the shower, so it was okay to continue.  "I've been noticing lately…things go missing or they move across the room, and then my door, it's unlocked when I wake up.  And Spike's not snoring a lot when I get a glass of water at night, so I didn't know…gah, that made no sense, did it?" I pressed a palm to my forehead in frustration.  Jet only blinked at me and proceeded to put away a pot he'd just dried.  "Okay, see, the thing is I didn't really notice this stuff…well, I kinda did, but I didn't think it meant anything, and then the other morning, Spike was sleeping in my chair.  And I didn't really expect him to be there, so I just went back to sleep because I didn't know what to do…and then…I stayed up late and he keeps coming into my room at night.  He sits there watching me, and I don't know what he's trying to do.  Do you have a clue?"

"I don't see what the problem is." Jet answered after a moment.  "You already know what he's doing in there."

"What…you mean watching me?  But what's the point?" I had a suspicion that I knew exactly what the point was, but I was too terrified to even consider that possibility.  I realized that what I really wanted was for Jet to tell me something about how Spike was hoping to poison me in my sleep or something like that so I could sleep easier.  Yeah, I know, that makes a lot of sense.  Welcome to my world.

"Faye, I've talked with you about this before." Jet's voice was weary as he tossed the towel back on the counter and poured himself some coffee from the fresh pot waiting there.  "Spike cares about you a lot, and after what happened with Julia, it's not really surprising that he's afraid to be honest.  Look what happened the last time he told a woman he loved her.  It ended like that and I don't…" Jet trailed off as he turned around, and he seemed to be staring at a spot somewhere just beyond my left ear.  At that point, I realized a bit too late that the water was no longer running in the bathroom.  Suddenly, I was considering the likelihood of escaping any further discussion by faking a fainting spell in the middle of the kitchen.  After a few moments of thinking how much it would hurt to fall with my added mass, I licked my lips and made a small noise of alarm before turning my head just slightly to the left.  I was not surprised to see dripping wet dark green hair greeting me.  Spike looked about as alarmed as I felt, but I could see the flash of anger there as well in his mismatched eyes.  I stepped away out of pure reflex.  I mean really, who could he be angry at besides me?

"Jet." Spike ground out the syllable with the fury I thought he would only ever direct at me.  "What the hell is going on in here?"

"I just…" Jet actually sounded apologetic, but I was still wondering why Spike was so angry with _him_ instead of me.  Not that I'd really done anything wrong, but there it was.  "She saw you…at night."

"She _what_?" Spike didn't sound so angry there, more like he'd just been told the coffee he'd had that morning was really nitro glycerin.  "You were awake?"  It took a few moments for me to realize that question was directed toward me, and with some wonder, I noticed that there wasn't a shred of anger in the words.  They were nothing but full-fledged panic.

"I…saw you." Wow, that was brilliant Faye.  And so utterly calm.  Although, to my credit, his eyes were very unsettling at that moment, so I think I was allowed a bit of idiocy.  There was a long silence then, and I knew that Spike was desperately trying to come up with some explanation as to why he was making nightly trips to my bedroom to watch me sleep.  It was giving him a lot of difficulty, and eventually, Jet spoke up again.

"Don't lie to her, Spike." He advised, still looking a bit shocked that Spike had walked in on the conversation.  "You should tell her how you feel."

"What the hell would _you_ know!?" Spike exploded, turning on Jet with all the anger I'd ever seen him direct at me on those occasions where I hit a nerve.  Usually, a nerve named Julia.  "I never said that…and you can't just say things like that!  What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"She's not the same, Spike!" Jet shouted back, obviously a bit defensive because of the towel-clad menace moving toward him.  "It's not like with Julia!  Don't lie to her because of what happened with some other woman!"

"You're right!  She's _not_ Julia, and she never will be!" Spike and Jet seemed to have utterly forgotten that I was standing not two feet away from them.  They were arguing over me like I wasn't there to hear it, but it still stung me deep to be compared to Julia.  I knew I'd never be like Julia to Spike, but did they have to make it so utterly plain?  "Don't act like all I need to get over that is a quick fuck with some slut!  You never knew her, you don't know what it's like!"

"I knew her…" my voice was quiet, and I wondered if they could hear me, but I didn't have to wonder long.  The sound of my voice cut through their argument like a finely honed knife, and they both turned to look at me as though surprised to see me still there.  They seemed to be waiting for me to say something, so I put on a brave smile and nodded at Spike.  "You're right, I know that.  I'm…tired." I excused myself quickly, moving as fast as my stomach would allow and not stopping until I had locked my door behind me.  I hadn't yelled at him, and that struck me as amazing when I paused to think about it, irritated at the tears that were spilling down my cheeks one after another.  At least no one could see me cry.

"Faye!" Spike's voice broke through my self-reflection long enough for me to straighten up and wipe my eyes.  He was pounding on my door, his voice worried enough that I almost hadn't recognized it as Spike at all.  "Open up, come on."

"Go away, I'm tired." I told him, hoping I didn't sound like I'd been crying.  Moving over to my bed, I sat down on it and leaned against the wall, hoping he'd just listen to me and go away.  I really didn't feel like a conversation that confirmed over and over again the fact that I was not as good as Julia and never would be.  He probably wanted our baby to be blonde so he could pretend it was hers instead of mine.  I hated that man so much.

"Faye, just let me in." He repeated, sounding a bit calmer, but still rather urgent.  I did not dignify his request with a response, but apparently he took my silence to mean that he was welcome to jimmy my lock.  Well, it must have been easy enough with all the practice he'd gotten lately.  I didn't even bother to look up at him as he stood in the doorway, though I could tell even from where I was that he'd taken the time to pull on a shirt and some boxers.  That was good, since I wasn't really in the mood for a conversation with half-naked Spike.  No doubt he had some smug asshole expression on his face anyway, and I wasn't really in the mood.  "Faye," he was still standing in the doorway, and I wondered if he was waiting for an invitation.  I picked up my pillow and tossed it at him.

"Get out." I told him, my tones icy and slightly sullen.  "And stop doing that to my door or I'll get a new lock."

"Faye, you have to talk to me." He insisted, stepping inside and picking up my pillow.

"No I don't." I insisted.  "I don't have to do anything.  I don't owe you anything, so just get out and leave me alone."

"Faye!  Fuck, stop being a bitch and just let me talk to you." He sounded pretty irritated, not that I cared if _he_ was upset.  He deserved it.

"Why?  So you can explain why Julia's _so_ much better than me and why you'll never stop loving her and you just don't give a shit about me?  No thanks, I already know." I clenched my teeth angrily as he sat down next to me, setting the pillow down.  Edging away from him, I crossed my arms and avoided his gaze angrily.

"Faye, don't be stupid." Spike sounded angry still, but it was worn out, stretched thin like he just couldn't find a reason to stay angry anymore.  "Would you just listen to me?"

"Make it quick." I answered finally.

"Don't misunderstand me." He began after blinking at me a few times, obviously trying to sort out his thoughts.  "Just because we had that one night…that doesn't mean anything."

"You don't have to tell me that." I replied angrily.  "You've made it pretty fucking clear already."

"Then…we understand each other?" Spike asked, and something about his voice was odd.  I glanced up and the look he was shooting me was somewhere between relief and pleading.  What did he _want_ me to say?

"Except for your little night trips, everything seems simple enough."  And the award for best actress goes to the amazing Faye Valentine.

"Okay…well, about that." Spike seemed to be casting about for some explanation as I watched him expectantly.  This was going to be interesting, I was sure.  "I was…just…"

"Watching me sleep?  Yeah, I got that." I retrieved my pillow and set it back at the head of my bed, patting it down meticulously.  "What's up with that?  Obviously you don't agree with Jet's interpretation."

"That's not it!" the mention of Jet got Spike's defenses up once more.  "Jet makes a lot of assumptions, and sometimes he's just totally wrong.  I mean, I like you…cause you're my friend and all that.  I don't want there to be weirdness between us, though.  And you know how I felt about Julia."

"How you feel." I corrected.

"Uh, yeah, exactly." Spike paled a little bit to notice that he had put it in the past tense.  "What I mean to say is that there just isn't room for anything else in my life right now."

"Oh, of course not." I snorted and rolled my eyes.  "Since you've got so many dates with Julia, that takes up all your time, I'm sure.  And I'll let the baby know that as much as you'd _like_ to love it as you should, you haven't got room for that sort of thing.  Dead girlfriends are very demanding on your schedule."

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Spike snapped, twisting toward me as his eyes flamed in angry frustration.  Oh yes, I was being a bitch.  I'll be the first to admit it, but I think he deserved it for once.  "Can't you just…try to be fucking reasonable here?"

"Fine, fine." I idly patted my swollen stomach.  "So what you're saying is there's room for the baby, but not for me."

"No…I just…and you can't…" Spike's hands found their way to his hair, rubbing against his head as he tried to think of a thoughtful sounding answer.  "It's _my_ kid too."

"Yeah, but you have to share it with me." I reminded him.  "We have to come to some sort of a decision, Spike.  We can't be at each other's throats constantly once the baby comes.  It could be damaging, you know.  You should know how friction like that can hurt the kid more than anyone else." I shouldn't have made a reference to his past, but I couldn't help it.  I was pissed at him for pretending like there was nothing between us, and all that staring and protective crap was just the normal friend behavior.  I have to say that since I woke up from cold sleep, I haven't had a lot of real friends, but I can tell you one thing.  They don't sneak into your room at night to watch you sleep.  I'm pretty fucking sure of that.

"Faye…don't push me." Spike's voice was almost frightened, as if he was seeing the scenes of his childhood flash before his eyes, perhaps with his parents' faces replaced with our own.  "You know that something…like that.  You know I wouldn't ever ever let that happen.  Ever."

"I know." I admitted.  And yet, that guy married his mom.  So why wasn't I getting any love confessions, or at least a nice admission of emotional confusion?  I don't know when I decided that Spike was just obviously in love with me, but at this point, I was stubbornly set on not saying a damn thing to him until he could get his head out of his ass and admit to his own feelings.  Like _that_ would ever happen.  I'm such a masochist sometimes.  I mean, I fell in love with Spike in the first place.  That should indicate my attraction to self-inflicted misery.  "But if you want to be this kid's father, I'd really rather we were on speaking terms when it's born."

"We're talking right now." Spike chose that moment to play the insufferable idiot, so I reached over and pinched his arm as hard as I could.  Sadly, he only made a slight noise of pain at this.

"You know what I mean." I leveled a dry stare at him.  "Do you really want to be involved in this baby's life?"

"Didn't I already tell you?" Spike was getting a bit antsy now.  "Would you stop holding that baby over me like some fucking threat?  Do _you_ want me to be a father, or do you just like fucking with me?"  I didn't really know what to say to that, so I only stared at him until he continued.  "Look, whatever Jet thinks…I love Julia, and that's it.  I like you, Faye, but you're not the same.  I want to be part of the baby's life, but that doesn't mean I feel anything more for you.  It matters to me, okay?  But if you're going to keep threatening to take it away, I'll leave.  I'll disappear, and you won't ever find me.  Don't think that I can't make it happen, either.  I've done it before and I'll leave this world too, if that's the way you want it."

"You think I want that?" my eyes goggled.  I couldn't believe he was even suggesting leaving the Bebop.  Leaving me.

"What _do_ you want?" he asked, a challenge in his eyes that demanded at least some level of honesty from me.  I wanted to say so many things right then.  I wanted to tell him how I felt, despite my determination to make sure he could admit his feelings before I would give an inch.  I wanted to explain to him that I felt safer somehow knowing that he watched me sleep.  Not that I'd ever really thought someone would come attack me in the middle of the night, but there it was.  I wanted to say that no matter how I threatened to keep my baby from him, I could never really do anything like that to him, even if it meant scarring the poor child for life with all our fighting.  I wanted to tell him that if he left me, I'd die inside and I'd never be able to raise the baby into anything resembling a happy, normal human being.  I wanted to burst into tears and hug him so tight that he couldn't leave.  I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, how it killed me knowing that I'd always be second to Julia.

"I…don't want you to go." I managed to work the words out as a million thoughts swirled through my mind.  I couldn't believe how stupid that sounded compared to all the heartfelt entreaties swirling through my thoughts.  Why was I such an idiot when it came to Spike?  He was looking at me expectantly, and the silence between us felt unbearably awkward.  "Would you really leave?"

"If that's what you wanted." He told me, and I was terrified to find that his level stare seemed to be causing my cheeks to go a rather embarrassing shade of red.

"Just…because I said so…you'd leave?" I hoped desperately that he wouldn't realize I was blushing, even though I could feel the heat radiating off my face as though my cheeks were on fire.

"I don't need to be here." He answered.

"What about Jet?  He's your friend, and you'd leave just like that?" I didn't know why this whole topic was causing me to blush so horribly, but that's exactly what I was doing.

"He doesn't need me around." Spike told me.  "None of you guys _need_ me here.  But no one wants me to leave either, so I just stay."

"I need…I don't want you to leave." I stopped myself from saying that I needed him.  I wouldn't be the weak one here.  I wouldn't.  I hated caring about him so much, and it would only be worse if he knew what a hold he had over me.  "No one needs me here, either.  I could leave instead.  You were here first, after all."  And there I went, being a doormat again.  Why I couldn't just shut the hell up for five minutes…

"You're in no condition to be on your own." Spike told me.  "What kind of a man would I be if I let you try to take care of that baby by yourself?"

"A normal one?" I guessed.  I knew without a doubt that any of the other men that could have impregnated me would have disappeared impossibly fast if I'd have told them of my condition.  What were the chances that the one time nature beat out contraceptive science, I'd be with a guy who had a shred of honor?

"I'm not like that." Spike put a hand on top of my head and pulled me into a loose hug.  I didn't know what else to do, so I just enjoyed it, letting my hands rest against his arms as he continued to speak.  "You have to know that whatever else there is to deal with, I want to be there with you."  I sighed and closed my eyes, knowing that those words were likely the closest I'd ever get to a love confession.  Oh well.

"I think you should know," I whispered, staring at his left arm and picking at the sleeve of his shirt with my fingers.  "I'm in love with you."  His arms went tense then, and all the fears that I had about confessing came back into sharp focus.  What if he laughed at me?  What if he pushed me away?  Had I just ruined everything we had?  "Is…that a problem?"  I wanted him to say something, anything at all.  I was afraid of the silence, as I didn't know what it meant.  But then, when I thought that maybe he just hadn't heard me, he tightened the hug and kissed the top of my head before letting go of me.  What did _that_ mean?  Was he going to confess now after all?

"I'm sorry." He smiled at me sadly before getting up and leaving.  I didn't know what to say, what to think or feel about his apology.  I had a pretty good idea of what it meant, and then, as I sat there staring at my closed door, I realized that I was crying.  Stupid man.

*****

The End (Of Part 12, That Is)


	13. No, There's No Way You're Naming It

Spike is such an uncooperative prick sometimes, isn't he?  I mean, does he really think that he's _helping_ anyone with his head stuck that far up his ass?  Whatever, let's just get to the story and see what Faye has to say about it.  Plenty, I'm sure.

*****

One More Try

Part 13

*****

"Oh, this one's pretty." I smiled as my finger stopped running down the list of names in the book I had found while out shopping for baby clothes.  "Daelyn.  What do you think?"

"That's a girl's name, right?" Spike was picking through the clothing I had brought back with a disapproving look on his face.  "Do you even know if it's a girl or not?"

"Well, if it's your kid, I would rather it was a girl." I replied, returning to the names.  "We'll need two names, I guess.  One for if it's a boy and one for a girl.  That's why I got gender neutral clothes."

"These are neutral?" Spike held up a yellow pastel sleeper.  "This is so girly."

"Yeah, I'm sure that if any boy wears that, all the other babies will shun him for life." I snorted as I continued to scan the pages of names.  "What if we named her Echo?  That's pretty."

"It sounds like a name for someone who can't think for themselves." Spike opined, shaking his head over the pink bunnies embroidered on a white sleeper.  "This is horrible.  If it's _our_ baby, you shouldn't be buying it crap like this without asking me."

"_You_ didn't want to come shopping, remember?" I pointed out.  "You said you were too busy taking a nap."

"Well…next time don't go without me." Spike considered a pair of tiny white socks, and unable to find anything wrong with them, put them on the table with everything else he'd pulled out of my bag.

"What about Faith?" I asked while he considered the little animals parading across the front of a baby blue bib.

"Sounds stupid." He replied.  "It's too much like your name."

"What's wrong with my name?" I was immediately irate.  "Anyway, you're one to talk, _Spike_."

"My name's cool." Spike snorted and tossed the bib down to continue rummaging through the bag.  "How much did all of this cost?"

"It doesn't matter, Jet gave me the money himself and told me to spend as much as I needed." I replied.  "At least _one_ man on this ship is providing for the baby."  I ignored Spike's indignant look to suggest another name.  "What about Gail?"

"Sounds like an old woman's name." Spike replied, a hint of anger in his tone.  So maybe he hadn't been upset by my shot at his name, but he didn't seem to think much of me pointing out how unhelpful he'd been with the baby so far."

"Well then _you_ pick one, oh master authority of baby naming." I tossed him the book and began refolding the clothes and returning them to the half empty bag.  Spike rolled his eyes before flipping through the book for a while as I continued to fold the new baby clothes.

"Whoa…let's name it Phoenix.  That's a cool name." He suggested.  I was speechless for a moment as I realized he was serious.

"No.  We are _not_ naming my baby _Phoenix_.  That's a horrible name." I pulled the book back and began flipping through it again.

"What's wrong with it?" Spike grumbled as he set about pulling the clothes out of the bag again.  "And it's _my_ kid too.  I should get to name it."

"All you've done so far is get me knocked up." I eyed him over the top of the page I was on.  "That doesn't give you full naming rights." As he continued to grumble, I picked out a new name.  "What about Lauren?  That's a nice name."

"It's stupid." He replied automatically.

"You're only saying that because I shot down Phoenix, which I _still_ say is stupid." I pursed my lips at him as he continued rummaging through the clothes.  "And could you _stop_ messing up those clothes?  I just folded them."

"Whatever.  Like the baby cares." Spike rolled his eyes as he continued pulling out garments and grumbling in disapproval.  I reached out and slapped his hand sharply.  "Ow!  What was that for?"

"Stop being a pain in the ass!" I told him angrily, closing the book and using it to hit him again as he held up his hands to ward off my attack.  "Just get out of the baby's things."

"I'm just checking them!" he insisted, trying to reach the bag again, but I hit his outstretched hand sharply with the paperback book.  Jet joined us at that moment, looking ready to play the stern father as always.

"What's the problem out here?" he asked, looking from Spike to me and then to the bag of clothes.

"We're trying to think of baby names." I told him, holding up the book and trying my best for a look of complete innocence.  "But Spike thinks all my ideas are stupid."

"Hey, Jet, isn't Phoenix a cool name?" Spike ignored me and sent his entreaty straight to the older man, who was still frowning at us both is disapproval.

"It sounds like a superhero or something." Jet opined unsurely after noting the glares that Spike and I were shooting each other.  Spike made a sound of dejection before turning his angry glare to Jet.

"It's a _cool_ name." He insisted.  "Not like Faith or Echo."

"I don't really want to get involved." Jet answered after a moment.  "It's your baby, you guys name it."

"We would if Spike would stop with the dumb suggestions." I stated firmly, stuffing the last of the baby clothes back in their bag.  "I'm going to take a nap.  I'm tired of this." I shot Spike an extra glare just for daring to argue with me when I obviously knew so much more about babies.  I mean, I obviously didn't have any experience, but neither did he and _he_ never read any books about it.

"Your suggestions are the bad ones!" he snapped at me as I picked up the bag and left.  I wasn't in the mood for prolonged conversations with that man, and I hadn't been for some time now.  I was eight months pregnant, and it struck me that things with Spike weren't really that much different than they had been before I was pregnant.  I guess I'd been hoping the baby would be the push that he needed to learn to love me, but it seemed to me that _nothing_ could make that man love me.  Well…I had thought that he was in love with me, but now I wasn't sure.  After all, I'd confessed to him and everything, and now it seemed to be a silent understanding between us that we would never mention that and would continue to act like it hadn't happened.  Oh well, at least he seemed to show some interest in the baby now, for better or for worse.  Phoenix…yeah right.

----------

"June." I scooped the ice cream into my mouth and sighed happily.  Now that I was so close to being due, everyone on the ship was spoiling me rotten.  Jet kept buying me special food, whatever I wanted.  Ed was at my beck and call, ready to do the tiniest task that might make me more comfortable and take away from the aches and pains I was experiencing.  Spike, however…

"Stupid.  Why name a baby after a month it's not even born in?" Spike shot down every name suggestion I handed him.  It was really irritating.  Although every now and then I could get him to fetch and carry for me, but I was much more concerned about the fact that my baby was due in two weeks and it was currently not named.

"Kara." I continued to enjoy my ice cream, trying not to let his obnoxious attitude get to me.  I was pretty close to just deciding the names on my own and Spike Spiegel be damned.

"Stupid." He didn't even bother to explain why the name was stupid.  He still hadn't made any suggestions after that first one.  Phoenix…what was _wrong_ with him?  No wonder we couldn't agree on anything.

"What if _I_ pick the girl name and you pick the boy name, and then we don't have to argue about it.  There's an even chance of the baby being named what one of us wants."  I spoke up again after a while.

"I want it to be a good name." He insisted.  "And I don't want you just naming it something random because I didn't get a boy or something like that."

"The baby doesn't _pick_ it's gender." I told him irritably.  "Neither do I." I added, just to clarify.

"We should both agree on the name, that's all I'm saying." He told me after a while.  "If we're going to share the baby, that's only fair."

"Okay, I get what you're saying." I nodded, closing the book.  This was hopeless, but at least I had ice cream.  I wondered vaguely if Ed would mind rubbing my feet.  They were awfully sore.  "I just think that we're _never_ going to agree on a name.  It's just…we think too differently.  That's why we can never get along in the first place for longer than five minutes at a time."  There was a long pause and I realized that what I had said broke into the territory of our relationship, a place that I had really rather we stayed away from.

"We're not _that_ bad." Spike opined after a while.  Apparently he had decided that the new topic was perfectly alright, even though I was already starting to feel a blush building up.  I hated unrequited love.  "I mean, we fight sometimes, but it's never really serious."

"What about the time that you thought I stole your shoes and you changed the Bebop access code so that I couldn't get back onto the ship for three days before I broke your jamming signal and got Jet to let me in?" I reminded him.  "Or the time that you were mad at me scratching your Swordfish so you stole the ignition switch to the Red Tail?"

"Oh man…that was so funny." Spike chuckled, leaning back on the couch as I stirred the melting remains of my ice cream around the bowl.  "But anyway, you deserved that.  I was just getting revenge."

"Oh really?  The thing with the Swordfish was an accident and you know it." I pointed out.  "And I hadn't even _touched_ your shoes.  You left them in the main room and Jet put them in the front storage room."

"It was still funny when you had to follow us for three days, freaking out because you had no food and couldn't get in." Spike smiled at the memory.  He was such an ass.  "And anyway, those were just pranks.  They don't mean that we can't get along at all."

"We're arguing right now, Spike." I told him drily.

"That's just because you're wrong and won't admit it." Spike answered after a pause.  "And this isn't that bad of a fight."

"For us." I clarified.  "It's true, Spike.  We fight _all_ the time, and most of it starts over something stupid.  We just can't get along."

"Then why are you in love with me?" Spike's rebuttal obviously didn't have a lot of thought behind it, because as soon as the words left his mouth he looked like he'd just choked on something especially nasty that Jet had made for dinner.  I didn't feel much better than he looked, but after a long while, I set my bowl aside and shrugged.

"I don't really know." I told him.  "It's how I feel about you.  It doesn't have to make sense."

"Nothing about you makes sense." He sighed and moved off the couch.  At first I thought he was leaving, but he just picked up the bowl and took it to the kitchen for me.  I blinked at him in surprise as he came back and sat on the table where my feet were propped up.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked him after a while.  Was he being nice to me again?  He was so hard to understand sometimes.

"Just helping out." He moved my feet with one hand, shifting his position so they were in his lap.  He carefully removed the sock from my right foot and began to rub it slowly.  "I was just thinking…I mean, everyone's taking care of you lately except me.  And it's _my_ kid."

"You don't have to…" I trailed off.  His hands just felt so good and my feet were so sore.

"I want to." He told me, looking up and smiling at me briefly.  It was an apologetic grin.  "I'm sorry that I can't be what you want me to be, Faye.  But I'll try my best to do what I can for you.  I just can't…do that."

"I know." I sighed sadly.  Somehow, I didn't really care that he was giving me a foot massage anymore.  I didn't care that it felt amazing and that he was doing it without being asked or told.  He was only doing it because he pitied me, and I hated that.  I hated that I was so weak that he could see it.  I was so weak that he felt sorry for me, even though Spike rarely felt sorry for anyone that I knew of.

"I told Jet.  About what you told me." Spike told me after a long silence.  I was strangely calm about the admission.  "I'm sorry, but I didn't know what to do."

"He already knew, I think." I told him.  "What'd he say?  Rub my feet and all shall be forgiven?"

"He thinks…he said that I shouldn't be hung up on the past." Spike told me.  "He said that if I gave you a chance, you could make it stop hurting."

"Jet thinks too much of me." I snorted, chuckling slightly.

"He said that you're the best person to fix what's wrong with me." Spike continued.

"I wouldn't know where to begin." I told him.  "I'm not that sort of a woman.  I'm not amazing, or even ordinary.  I'm just me.  I may know that you miss Julia, but there's nothing I can do about it.  Jet needs to stop trying to be a matchmaker."  I concluded.

"It's not your fault that I miss her." Spike assured me.  "I'd miss her no matter what, I think.  Jet's been in love before.  He should know what it's like to be left behind."

"Yeah, but his girl didn't die." I pointed out, sighing slightly.  "It's different, you know?"

"I wonder sometimes," Spike set down the foot he'd been working on and moved to the other.  "What if I'd stayed away from Julia?  I mean, she was my best friend's girlfriend, and I know that for a long time, even though I thought a lot of her, I would have never tried anything because of Vicious.  We'd been friends for so long."

"What made you change your mind?" I asked him.

"A moment of weakness, I guess." He shrugged, glancing up again.  "I think maybe…if I hadn't done anything with Julia, things would be different.  I wouldn't have had to leave the syndicate, and maybe Vicious wouldn't have gotten so out of control.  He was a lot nicer before all that, you know.  I think losing his girl and his best friend just…"

"But if all that hadn't happened, would it really have been better?" I asked him.  "You were in love with Julia, and if you couldn't have her it would just make you bitter.  Just having those feelings, Vicious and you would have to come to odds eventually, and isn't it better knowing that she loved you too?  At least you got the experience of being with her."

"I just can't help thinking that if nothing had happened, I might have missed her less." He told me.

"I don't think so." I answered, smiling sadly.  "If you left, do you think I'd miss you less just because you don't love me?"

"I don't know…" Spike was very intent on my foot, obviously a bit embarrassed, but hey, he'd brought it up in the first place.

"Will you tell me something?" I decided to ask him a question that had been bothering me now that he was disconcerted and less likely to lie.  "Honestly, I know you hate kids, so I was wondering…do you really want this baby?"

"You want it." He answered after an uncomfortable silence.  He put down my other foot and moved back onto the couch, pulling out his cigarettes and then putting them back in his pocket after glancing directly at my stomach.  He didn't usually smoke around me anymore, and I wondered if he was still smoking when I wasn't around.  He had no real reason to quit, so I supposed that he must.  I still craved the burning, acrid taste on my tongue, as odd as that might sound to anyone who's never smoked before.

"That's not what I asked you." I told him, blinking patiently as I waited for an answer.

"Does it matter anymore what I want?" Spike asked me, a bit defensive.  "I mean, even if I said that didn't want it, would that change the fact that it's coming and you're keeping it?"

"No, of course not." I answered without hesitation.  "But I don't want you to feel like you have to raise this kid and you're being forced into it by me or something."

"No offense, Faye," Spike chuckled slightly.  "But I kinda doubt that you could _force_ me to raise a kid, no matter what you did."

"You know what I mean." I rolled my eyes at him.  "I just wanted to know if you want this at all.  Because whether or not you do, I appreciate the fact that you've promised to help, but I want you to know that you aren't obligated.  You aren't the one who chose to keep it."

"We've been through this." Spike grumbled, still evading the question.

"Well then, do you want it?" I asked him, refusing to back away.

"Okay, look." He turned to me, his level gaze boring into my own eyes.  "When you first told me, I wanted the baby to disappear.  I wanted to go to sleep, wake up, and have you walking around totally not pregnant.  I thought…there was no _way_ I was ready to be a father, and I sure as hell didn't think you were going to be any kind of mother.  But then…things started to get more serious, and I couldn't keep lying to myself about it.  And by then, it didn't bother me so much.  Then I caught myself worrying about you straining yourself or hurting yourself or something happening to the baby.  So I guess…you could say that I let the idea grow on me, and now I want the kid.  I mean, I'm sitting here helping you with names, right?"

"That means a lot to me, Spike." I told him honestly.  "Seriously, I've been worried ever since I found out that you wouldn't want anything to do with this baby, and I'd hate for it to grow up without any sort of father.  Although, there _is_ always Jet."  At this comment, Spike made a face that forced me to burst into laughter, it was so utterly priceless.  "Oh, don't get upset or anything.  I just meant that he's such a father figure already that he'd have no problem with one more kid running around the ship."

"Whatever." Spike was sullen now, and I felt a little foolish for even mentioning Jet.

"Hey…are you busy tomorrow?" I asked him after deciding that no matter how he tried to make me feel guilty, him getting jealous of Jet was just amusing.

"Not really.  You need something?" Spike arched an eyebrow, and I got the impression that he was hoping I would ask him for some sort of help so that he could reaffirm his place as the father.

"Well, I have to go in for a prenatal exam." I told him, rubbing my stomach.  "They're a bit more often now that I'm so close…I was wondering if you wanted to come along.  They take an ultrasound and you can see pictures of the baby…it's kind of cool, actually."

"That sounds…nice." Spike told me after a pause, smiling slightly and placing one hand on my stomach.  I placed my own hand over his and slid them both to where I could feel the baby moving inside of me.  It was an odd feeling that I had grown accustomed to, but it was clear from the amazed look on Spike's face that he had never felt something like this before.

"You can feel it, can't you?" I asked him, unable to chase away the smile that tugged up on the corners of my lips.

"Does that hurt?" he asked after a little while, still staring with rapt attention at the spot where he was feeling the movement of his child inside of me.  "I mean…it feels like it's kicking."

"It is, but it doesn't really hurt.  It feels…odd, but it's nice once you get used to it."  I explained.  "Every now and then, it'll hit me just right and it feels like someone just punched me really nice, but most of the time…it's pretty gentle."  I watched him for a few more moments before getting an idea and speaking up again.  "You can listen, if you want.  Ed thinks it's pretty entertaining."

"Listen?" Spike looked up then, and I thought that maybe I had crossed some invisible line, asking him to get closer than he'd like.  "Just…press my ear there?" His eyes still held the excitement that let me know my idea struck him as a good one despite my worries.

"That's the idea." I nodded, and after shifting his position, Spike pressed his ear to my round, distended belly, making me feel warm and embarrassed all at the same time.  He had one hand on my stomach still with the palm flat and the fingers splayed so that his touch reached all the way to where my stomach met my side and curved around to my back.  Something about the touch felt so natural and so full of warmth at the same time that I felt my blush grow worse than before.  "Can you hear it?"

"It's weird." He told me after a while, not moving away from my stomach.  "Doesn't it feel like we're a family?"

"We are, in a way." I answered, glad that he couldn't see how red my cheeks were.  We stayed like that until I fell asleep, at which point I assume that Spike carried me to my room, because the next morning, I woke up in my bed.  But the thing I really noticed first was that there was no one there beside me.  I'd never thought of how empty the bed was, but now it seemed unbearable.

*****

The End (Of Part 13, That Is)


	14. Yeah, You Two Aren't Obvious At ALL

I probably shouldn't tell you guys this cause you'll freak that I'm holding out on you…but I'm like way ahead of updates on writing these chapters.  Two days ago I posted chapter 11, but here I am writing chapter 14.  The idea is that if I lose my inspiration (which can happen) or if I don't have enough time to write all my updates in a week, I have back-ups.  It's been a very good system, since this way even if I can't write for like, a month, the readers have no idea that I'm stuck because they're still getting chapters every week.  I only get worried when it's the night before an update and I still haven't written the newest chapter.  That happens too, but not very often.

*****

One More Try

Part 14

*****

"Stop fidgeting." I told the man who was standing next to me as I waited in line to tell the nurse that I was there for my prenatal examination.  Spike had been irritating me all morning, acting like he'd had way too much coffee and was now constantly twitching and shifting himself.

"I'm not fidgeting." He answered indignantly as he played with his lighter, flipping it open and then closing it, twirling it around in his fingers and then starting the process over again.

"Yes you are." I told him, feeling like I was about five seconds from taking that lighter and cramming it up his nose.  "Now stop." I reached over and set my hand over his, causing him to look down at the lighter he'd just flipped open.  Grumbling something I couldn't quite make out, but was almost positive had to be a curse, he closed the lighter and pulled his hand away to put it away in his jacket.

"I'm just kinda nervous." Spike admitted in a hushed voice as though he was worried what the mother holding a baby ahead of us thought of him.  "I don't like hospitals all that much."

"Neither do I." I told him, smiling slightly and running my fingers through my hair.  "I spent enough time in one after they thawed me out, thank you very much.  They always remind me of my debt."

"You know…maybe since you're going to have a kid…you should work on paying that off." Spike suggested as we moved forward in line.  I ignored his advice and greeted the nurse behind the desk.

"Hello, my name's Faye Valentine.  Doctor Galen should be expecting me." I told her, trying to ignore the fact that Spike had taken out his lighter _again_.  I was going to smack him if he didn't knock it off.  He was making _me_ nervous.  "I'm here for a pre-natal."

"Let's see…three o' clock, right?" the nurse was typing and watching the computer screen raptly.  "Yes, I'll tell him you're here if you could go have a seat."

"Alright, thank you." I nodded and snatched Spike's hand, dragging him back toward the waiting area and nearly shoving him into a chair.  "Put that damn lighter away."

"Calm down." Spike grumbled, but he did as I told him to, leaving him to smooth the fabric of his pants over and over again.  I really wished I had a knife or something.  I was feeling some distinctly stabbity urges.

"I am perfectly calm." I told him sharply.  "You're the one who can't sit still."

"How come you changed the subject when I told you to pay off your debt?" he was obviously stretching for a change of topic, and I rolled my eyes in irritation.

"Okay, fine, I'll pay it off." I told him sarcastically.  "I'll just pull that three hundred million woolongs out of my ass."

"I'm not saying all at once." Spike spoke in a defensive tone.  "But don't you think that you should?  I mean…it may not matter to you when debt collectors try to track you down _now_, but once you've got a kid to worry about…"

"What are you saying?" I asked him, immensely displeased with the topic of conversation.

"I'm just _saying_ something could happen to you, and I know you don't worry about that kind of thing, but you have to think about the people who need you." Spike insisted.

"You could just take care of the baby if something happened to me." I shrugged.  I didn't really think that would be good enough, but the fact of the matter was that I really hated talking about my debt, and it _did_ worry me that debt collectors would likely still come after me once I had a kid.  And some of them weren't very nice, either.

"Don't be an idiot." Spike was obviously trying to tell me something, and he was frustrated by the fact that I didn't care to listen to him.  Not that I could really blame him for being upset, but I think that if _he_ didn't want to talk about his past, it was fine for me to not want to talk about mine.  "You think it's that simple?  You just disappear one day and everyone goes on like you never existed?"

"Why not?" I asked him, rolling my eyes in exasperation.  Why did I even bother to try and talk to him?  He couldn't take a hint if his life depended on it.

"Ms. Valentine?" a nurse came to the waiting room door, holding a chart and looking around expectantly.  I could have kissed her, but Spike didn't look very pleased about the interruption to our discussion.  "The doctor's ready to see you now, if you could just come with me."

"Alright, thank you." I stood up and gathered myself.  You wouldn't believe how hard it is to walk across a waiting room with any shred of dignity and grace when you have something the size of a beach ball and the weight of a watermelon strapped permanently to your front.  Spike wasn't helping matters, as he seemed to think I couldn't make it that far without help, so he had a hand on my back like he expected me to fall over or something.  The nurse didn't bat an eyelash at Spike's presence, and I couldn't decide if I was glad or terribly embarrassed by that.  I was sure that everyone who saw us walking together must assume that _he_ had caused my condition, and I really didn't like broadcasting my private life like that.  Especially when everyone insisted on treating us like the couple we could never be.  It was like rubbing my nose in it constantly.  Still, it was nice that he cared enough to come to the examination, and it made me feel less like a whore, since I had been sure that was what everyone thought of me when I came in before, pregnant and young and all alone.  It made it all too obvious how I had gotten that way, and I hated the truth behind it.  Who would have known a one night stand would lead to all this?

"Doctor Galen should be in shortly, if you'll be seated," The nurse turned to Spike and gestured toward a chair so that he would sit down and stop fidgeting.  This woman really had things under control.  That, and I was still feeling gracious for her opportune sense of timing, so in my eyes she could do very little wrong at that point.  "Ms. Valentine, I'll need to check your weight, if you can just come with me." She closed the door behind us, leaving an extremely put-out looking Spike alone in the examination room while we walked down the hall a bit to the scale.  I _really_ did not like this part.  I was _so_ glad Spike wasn't watching.  I mean, I was pretty sure he wouldn't have assumed that he was seeing my normal weight because of the obvious baby stomach I was hauling around, but it was still embarassing.  I knew that I had already gained ten kilograms, and it was driving me crazy.

"I hate this part." I admitted to the nurse as I hesitantly stepped onto the scale.

"Don't worry about it, I'm not one to judge." The nurse offered me a friendly smile as she jotted down the number.  Sixty-six kilograms.  I wondered how long it would take me to lose that extra weight.  "You've got a bit of extra right there, so don't get worried.  You haven't really gained any more than is normal for a pregnant woman."

"I've been trying to keep it under control." I told her, raking my fingers through my hair as I stepped off the scale.  "Working out and all that."

"Just don't overdo it, right?" The nurse fumbled through her papers before looking up at me apologetically.  "Is there any way I could get you to fill a cup for us?  I almost forgot."

"Ugh…that again." I was getting rather sick of all the testing I had been put through over the past eight months.  "Yeah, sure, I'll get it taken care of, but could you please _not_ tell him that's where I am?" I pointed back down the hall toward my examination room and the nurse smiled again.

"Your boyfriend?  Or are you guys engaged?" she asked, honestly curious.  "I've noticed you in here before.  You've always been alone."

"Oh…it's nothing like that." That would have been a lot more convincing if I wasn't blushing so deeply the heat practically rolled off my cheeks.  "Just…a friend."

"Good friend." The nurse glanced back toward the room again, and it suddenly struck me that she was young.  And pretty.  For some reason, I wasn't sure if I liked the nurse that much anymore.

"He's taken." I blurted it out before I had a chance to think about my words.  The nurse gave me an odd glance and I licked my lips before pulling a lie out of nowhere.  "Yeah, he's in a _really_ serious relationship right now…just so you know.  I thought you might…"

"Oh!  No, I wasn't going to—" the nurse cut herself off with a hand clapped over her mouth.  She was blushing now as well and looked more than a little embarassed.

"Sorry!  I didn't mean to say you would wonder…just lots of girls do." I felt like the biggest dolt in the history of the word dolt.

"Well, he _is_ very cute."  The nurse smiled knowingly, "And it's not often you find a guy that will take his friend to a prenatal exam.  Most of them get uncomfortable if it isn't their kid."

Well, that shouldn't be a problem then.  I was just about to snatch the plastic cup from the nurse, but she handed it to me and I hurriedly went to the nearby restroom to fill it for her.  "There you go."  I have to say that there are few things more undignified than being forced to carry around a plastic cup that was clearly full of your own urine.  Although, the thought that now the nurse had to carry someone _else's_ urine around made me feel a little better.  "Should I go wait for the doctor then?"

"Oh, yes, of course." The nurse smiled brilliantly.  How the hell can anyone smile so naturally when they've got a cup of warm urine in their left hand?  Seriously, wouldn't you find that a little disconcerting?  "Oh, he's coming down the hall just now.  Why don't you go ahead and I'll hand him your charts?" the nurse turned to intercept my doctor, a man I was quickly tiring of visiting despite all his gentle manner and friendly conversation.  I think I was just ready to have my baby and be done with it.  Reaching the door to the room that I was supposed to be waiting in, I turned the knob and entered.  Seeing Spike there somehow brightened my mood, even though it made me blush again as I recalled my awkward conversation with the pretty young nurse.

"It's about time." Spike grumbled, obviously relieved that I had come back.  "Where's that nurse?"

"What do you care?" I was _not_ jealous, I just wanted to know why he cared where the nurse was.  It was an innocent enough question, honestly.

"I was just…asking." Spike gave me a sidelong glance.  "Anyway, what was that all about?"

"Just taking…my weight." I did _not_ want to discuss my increase in weight with Spike Spiegel.

"Really?  What is it?" Spike looked like I had just handed him some very wonderful treat.  "I bet you're up to seventy."

"Oh, shut up." I rolled my eyes at him.  "I am _not_ up to seventy, asshole."

"Wait…how much did you weigh before?" Spike seemed to take it as an insult that he hadn't gotten my weight on the first try, so now he was strategizing.  I was _not_ in the mood for the Guess How Fat Faye Is Game.

"How much do you _think_ I weighed before?" I asked him challengingly, but at that moment Doctor Galen entered with the charts and a big smile on his face.  He was a nice enough man, and if I wasn't so sick of him taking blood and urine from her and asking her all kinds of terribly embarassing personal questions, I might have thought he was fairly attractive.  He wasn't too old, which was nice.  I hate having those pervy looking sixty year olds insisting on pelvic exams.  Doctor Galen wasn't a big fan of pelvic exams, so I decided that made him a damn good choice of doctor.

"Don't answer that, it's a trick question." The doctor warned Spike before setting his chart down on the bed I had already climbed up on in preparation for his usual probing and testing.  "And how are we feeling today, Faye?" Doctor Galen was starting the exam as usual, with a quick cursory sweep of my stomach which involved a lot of pressing and looking for abnormalities there.

"I'm feeling pretty pregnant." I answered snidely.  The doctor shook his head and laughed slightly, moving his stethoscope to check my heartbeat and breathing, as well as the baby's heartbeat.  However, with the first earpiece in, Doctor Galen suddenly yanked it off and turned to Spike who had just coughed loudly, as though irritated that he had been forgotten.  What a baby.

"Oh, yes, Nurse Stevens told me that a friend had come along." He looked a little embarassed to have moved right into the examination without making the proper introductions, but seriously, I just wanted to get on with it so I could finish.  I was planning on making Spike take me out for food after we were done.  That was his pennance for over-estimating my weight like that.  "I'm Doctor Joseph Galen, and you are?"  The doctor was holding his hand out in greeting, but Spike just gave him a vaguely untrusting look before answering.

"_I'm_ the father." His tone was hard, but I felt my heart soar at his words.  Sure, eveyone probably assumed that when they saw Spike with me at the doctor's office, but still…for him to just come out and say it like that…it was so thrilling.  Although I had an idea that he wasn't trying to please me at that point so much as he was trying to point out to Doctor Galen that he had a good reason to be there, and he _wouldn't_ be ignored.  That, or he was jealous.  I kinda hoped he was jealous.  I knew already that he wasn't a big fan of anyone touching my stomach, even Ed or Jet, so I'm sure he wasn't overly pleased with the whole pre-exam once over thing.  Now if only I could get my cheeks to stop turning red…

"His name is Spike Spiegel." I told the doctor, who looked a bit confused as to why Spike wasn't shaking his hand.

"Uh…well then, Spike," Doctor Galen recovered well enough, retracting his hand and putting on his stethoscope.  "It was very good of you to come today, though I wonder why you couldn't come before."

"He's a very busy man." I excused immediately.  "Babies aren't his number one priority."

"You never told me when your appointments were before." Spike countered, grumbling as the doctor leaned close to check the baby's heart.

"Deep breath in, Faye." The doctor didn't seem to be at all involved in our argument.  He was too busy going through the normal examination, and he was probably used to bickering couples.  Or maybe not…usually pregnant couples are all happy and lovey-dovey, aren't they?  I don't know for sure, I just always kind of assumed that.  I was pretty sure that most of them weren't in the situation _I_ was experiencing, at least.  Not that I personally knew a lot of couples with kids, but I still remembered my own parents, and they had seemed to get along well enough.

"Like you would have come." I rolled my eyes at him.

"I'm here now, what's that say?" Spike was obviously becoming more irate by the second, and I decided that I'd rather not get in a full out fight in front of my doctor who I knew I'd have to see again in at least a week.

"Can we talk about this later?" I raised an eyebrow and nodded to Doctor Galen who was still listening to my breathing.

"How are you feeling then?" Doctor Galen took the earpieces out as he scratched a few words down on the charts he was always filling out.  "Anything odd?  Loss of appetite, aches, loss of sensation, sharp pain?"

"Nothing more than usual." I shrugged.  "Sore feet, sore back, and basically the only other thing is when I get a nice kick from down here." I patted my stomach.  "I wish I _would_ experience some loss of appetite.  It can't be good for me to eat so much, whether I'm feeding this kid or not."

"Don't ignore your hunger.  You should always listen to your body, and now it's more important than ever, what with the baby's health as well as your own." Doctor Galen told me, still scribbling on the charts.  "Now then…why don't you lie down and we can take a look at the baby."

"Okay then." I moved up on the bed, laying back and pulling my shirt up to expose my distended belly.  Spike looked a bit wary about me doing _anything_ with my shirt, but I was used to this procedure, so he could just keep his opinions to himself since he obviously didn't know what was going on.  "Spike, come over here." I waved him over as the doctor prepared the equipment and rubbed some gel over my stomach.  Spike had just stood up to stand beside me, and he made a noise in his throat to see the doctor rubbing gel over my stomach.  What a child.  I mean really, the man was a _doctor_ for god's sake!  Did Spike _actually_ think that there was any plausible reason to get jealous of a doctor examining a woman in a _perfectly_ normal way.  Heaven forbid he ever realize what went into a gynecological exam.  "This is so he can take the ultrasound."  I shouldn't have even _bothered_ to explain something so silly.

"Yes, the gel allows a better surface for the tranceptor to pass auditory waves from." The doctor explained, using the patented Look How Smart I Am doctor talk.  I don't know if they did that on purpose, but it was damned annoying sometimes.  I ignored Spike's sullen look and pointed to the screen that was currently blank since Doctor Galen hadn't taken any pictures yet.

"That's where the baby shows up." I told him, offering him the barest smile.  It was enough to make him stop pouting, so that was good.  Seriously, why I even bothered with the man was beyond me sometimes.  When the doctor pressed the tranceptor to my stomach, I made a slight face since it was, as always, uncomfortably cold.  Spike took my face to mean something else, however.

"Does it hurt?" he wanted to know.

"No, it's just cold."  I informed him, knowing that after a few moments, the cold feeling would go away, and it wasn't like it bothered me all that much.  I mean, I'd taken freezing cold showers before.  Having a cold piece of metal on my stomach could hardly count as bad after that.

"And we should see the first pictures in a few moments." The doctor told us, and Spike leaned in just a bit, obviously curious about how this whole thing would turn out.

"This is my favorite part." I admitted to both men, smiling slightly as the familiar green arc of initially indistinct shapes flickered onto the screen.  It took a few moments to realize which parts were where, but I could tell from the look of concentration on Spike's face that he was doing what I usually did.  He was mentally adding round, pink flesh to that image, and maybe s short shock of dark hair.  The baby was moving a bit, looking almost as though it was shifting in it's sleep to find a more comfortable position.  I could see it's little arm moving around, as well as one gently swaying leg.  It was still a bit odd to see it's heart beating inside it's little body, but it made me happy to see that it _was_ there, perfectly healthy and normal.

"Is that…" Spike was pointing at one part, leaning forward even more, his other hand brushing against my side as it splayed across the edge of the bed.

"Right here you can see the head, and this is it's heart." The doctor put his pen to the screen, naming bits as he moved his hand around.  "You can see the arms right there…and those are it's legs."

"It's weird at first." I told him.  "All green lines and the heart shows up…but isn't it really…just sort of…"  Spike's hand found mine, and when he squeezed it firmly, I lost my train of thought.

"It's moving." He said after a pause on both of our parts.

"Yes, that's perfectly normal at this stage in development.  Has the baby's movement caused you any discomfort, Faye?" Doctor Galen raised his eyebrows and turned from the screen to address me.  I was still lost in the perfectly speechless world caused by Spike holding my hand.  And for some reason I kept hearing his voice in my mind from earlier, when the doctor had asked who he was.

_I'm the father_.  And then my mind trailed back to the night before.  _Doesn't it feel like we're a family?_

So then I started to think.  What if all of this—the pregnancy, and eventually the baby that he now claimed to want—caused something more to form between Spike and myself? He knew that I was in love with him, and even though he didn't seem to return my feelings, he wasn't belittling me or giving me a hard time about it.  He was being surprisingly understanding, and it was entirely unprecedented Spike behavior in _my_ experience.  Did this mean that even though he didn't love me, he was going to play house for the sake of the baby?  It seemed to me that the tiny child inside of me was accomplishing without effort something that I'd never be able to do.  It was breaking straight through every wall and façade that Spike used to hide from the world and even from me, and he was falling in love with it.  I guess it sounds stupid to say that I was a little bit jealous that after all the work I'd done, this baby was succeeding where I had failed without doing _anything_.  I mean, it hadn't even been born yet, and already I felt like it was so much more important to Spike than I would ever be.  So maybe all these sweet moments and caring gestures weren't for _me_, they were for my baby.  And maybe after it was born, I would be cut out of the middle, and I'd never get anything like this from Spike again.  The thought was very depressing, and I sighed deeply, trying to clear my mind.

"Faye?" the doctor was still waiting for my answer, and Spike was looking a little concerned.

"Oh, no, not really." I told him finally.  "Are we almost done, doctor?" I was definitely ready to leave.  This doctor visit was not making me feel any better about my situation with Spike.  If _anything_, it was making the whole thing seem even worse than before.

"Oh…yes, I suppose the baby looks perfectly healthy from what I can see here." Doctor Galen concluded, furrowing his brow as he watched the screen.  "And everything seems to be progressing normally.  Do you have any questions to ask me?"

"Can I go home now?" I asked, not at all kidding.  Spike's fingers had loosened and finally left my hand.  The loss of sensation was disappointing, and my new realization didn't make matters any better.  It was better if he went back to ignoring me, I thought.  Anything was better than false affection inspired by pity for me as well as love for the baby.  I felt so horrible, begrudging my baby that affection it had so easily gained, and I thought that at that moment, I must look extremely ugly, as that was exactly how I felt.  I didn't want Spike to see such a petty person.

"I suppose so." Doctor Galen began turning off the equipment, gesturing to the sink.  "You can wash off the gel first over there." He indicated, and I sat up to get off the bed, but I met unexpected resistance.  Spike pushed me back down and made his way over to the sink, getting a few paper towels damp.

"I can help." He informed me, looking hesitant about whether he was actually allowed to wash my stomach off.  I decided for him, snatching the towels away and taking care of it myself.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." I told him, noting that Doctor Galen was making a great show of finishing with his charts and not seeming to hear a thing that we were saying.  "I'll go make an appointment, then." I told the doctor.  "Next week?"

"Unless I see you sooner." He smiled broadly, as we both knew that my due date was in a matter of days.

"We can only hope." I offered him a sardonic smile as I sat up again, letting Spike help me down from the bed before shaking an arm to push him away a nice, safe distance.  I wasn't too happy with him right at that moment.  Never mind that he couldn't help who he loved and who he didn't, I was looking for someone to blame for my currently embittered mood, and he seemed a likely target.

"Of course, the due date is only an estimate, so we can't be sure.  Also, some babies come quicker, some take a little longer." The doctor explained.  I'd heard this all before, but I listened patiently.  "So just be on your guard."

"Sure thing, doc."  I gave him a casual wave before leaving the office with Spike annoyingly close to me.  I got to the desk where I had to once again get in line before I turned to him.  "Would you stop hovering?"

"I'm just standing here." Spike countered, sounding a little defensive, but he did take a step back, crossing his arms in irritation at the same time.

"Don't mope." I ordered him.  I wasn't _trying_ to be mean to him, really.  I was just upset about the whole baby thing still.

"I'm not." He told me, stubborn as always.  I shook my head and rolled my eyes as the line moved forward.  I wasn't going to talk to him if he was just going to act like a child.  I addressed the nurse behind the desk, deliberately ignoring the scowling man beside me.

"I need to make another appointment with Doctor Galen, about a week from today." I told her, still feeling the gaze on the back of my head.

"I have an opening at noon and another at four thirty." The nurse told me after some furious typing.

"Noon sounds good." I nodded as she added my appointment to the database and wrote up a small reminder slip for me.

"Alright.  We'll see you then." She offered me a small smile before handing me the slip and turning back to her computer, ready for the next patient.  I shrugged and put the slip in my pocket, heading for the door with Spike right beside me.  Not that I was looking.  Because I could have cared less what _he_ was doing.

"Are you mad or something?" Spike asked as we moved across the parking lot to the area where our ships were waiting.  I did not dignify his stupid question with a response.  "Look…is it because I grabbed your hand?  Because I was just—"

"No!" I stopped, whirling on him, or doing something that approximated an angry whirl when coming from a pregnant woman.  "Gods Spike, you don't understand _anything_ do you?"

"Not when it comes to you, apparently." He answered in an annoyed tone.  "I don't see what you're mad about!  We were getting along perfectly fine even though you kept flirting with that stupid doctor—"

"What the hell?" I cut him off again.  "I was _not_ flirting with him!"

"Well, he was flirting with you." Spike amended.  "I saw it."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes.  How ridiculously stupid could one man get?  "And even if we _were_ flirting, what would it matter to you?"

"I…It's mine too." He pointed to my stomach as if that answered everything.  I rolled my eyes and turned away.

"So?  Does that mean you can tell me what to do and what _not_ to do?" I asked him, angry at his presumption.  "I sure as hell haven't been given the same privileges with _you_."

"I just don't think…with the baby and everything…" Spike was obviously having a hard time expressing himself.  Not that it was that much of a difference from the usual.  "I don't think you should be involved with other men."

"Why not?" I had no idea why he insisted on being such an idiot, but he didn't seem ready to let this whole imagined flirtation issue rest.

"It could…confuse the kid." Spike answered, apparently unaware of how completely lame that sounded.

"Don't be an ass, Spike." I told him, turning around to face him and leveling a condescending gaze at him.  "You could care less what I do with my free time, it's only the baby you care about.  And besides that, it wasn't like I was flirting with the doctor or anything, you're just being a—"

Apparently Spike was sick of being interrupted, so he decided to cut _me_ off.  However, his method was considerably nicer than snapping insults.  It involved kissing me, grabbing my arms in both hands, and pulling me close.  This was all well and good, but then I remembered that I was mad at him, and that I had already decided he didn't love me, and that all the affection he showed me was only for the baby.  He was just confused, after all.  So I twisted out of his grip and pulled away.  From the look of shock he was giving me, he either didn't intend to kiss me, or hadn't expected me to pull away.  Probably a little of both.  So I decided to tell him what I thought of all this before he remembered how to talk.

"Don't, Spike." I told him, holding up a hand as though I expected another kiss attack.  "Just…just don't, okay?  We've already talked about this, and if you think that I'll let you fuck around with me just because of how I feel, you're wrong.  I know you don't think I have any respect for myself, but I refuse to let you hurt me.  Just leave me alone, okay?"

"Faye, I wasn't—"

"No, I don't want to hear it." I cut him off again, turning to leave.  My Red Tail was close enough that even if he chased me, I could probably make it to the ship first.  "I just don't, Spike.  I've put up with a lot of shit from you, and that stops right now.  I'm serious.  I'm going home now, so just…just leave me alone."

"But I…"  I didn't have to cut him off that time, he trailed off as I laboriously climbed up into my ship.  He didn't love me anyway, and I knew it.  So why did I feel like such an idiot when I saw him watching me leave?  And why did he look so sad?

*****

The End (Of Part 14, That Is)


	15. Okay, How About We Continue This Talk AF...

Between the two of them being stubborn idiots, this story will _never_ end…sigh.  Oh well, I suppose all we can do is continue on and hope that they come to their considerably lacking senses.  And sooooo, on with the story.

*****

One More Try

Part 15

*****

So I admit it.  When I took Spike to the prenatal exam with me, I had already gotten some idea that the baby was becoming more and more important to him.  I guess my idea was that if I could expand on that, he'd see _me_ and want to love me just as well.  Granted, there was the kiss incident, but I was too confused at that point to enjoy it.  However, once I got back to the Bebop, locking myself in my room and ignoring the way Spike was kicking the wall next door in a poorly veiled attempt to get me to come out, if only so that I could yell at him to knock it off, I started to really think about what had happened that day.  And it frightened me.

Spike seemed like a mystery wrapped in an enigma coiled deep into a maze.  You see, I spent most of my life making my livelihood based on a few basic principles.  One of these ideas was that men were relatively simple-minded and with only the slightest bit of effort, any woman could come to understand what made them tick.  This was important to me, as it allowed me to find the weaknesses of every man I ever encountered, friend or foe, and exploit those weaknesses to my own advantage.  I was a woman, and as such I had a natural knack for this.  The fact that so many men shared the utterly obvious weakness of their libidos made it that much easier for me to get the hang of this method of getting by in a world where women still have so much trouble gaining any sort of respect using the means by which their male counterparts avoid such devious subterfuge.  But then, I'm an enterprising woman, and I've never had a problem with cheating…or manipulating the game a little.  Part of the challenge is seeing _past_ cheats and lies.  If men can't do that, it's their own fault, and it all comes back to their basic, simple-minded ways.

However, Spike wasn't like any other man I'd ever known.  I still wonder if that's what drew me to him.  Maybe I was just so insulted that he defied all logic that I was determined to figure him out.  That determination might have turned into an obsession, causing me to see that the reason I couldn't figure him out was because _he_ was _my_ weakness.  That wasn't something I had planned on, and it shook my world down to it's foundations.  I was in love.  The woman who cared for no man and could use her killer looks and deadly instincts to win the heart of any man she met had finally fallen herself.  It was ironic that I fell for the one man who seemed utterly immune to my charms.  Maybe that was because from the beginning I knew he was different.  I never concerned myself with Spike or Jet as men.  They were my companions, and I knew that it would all come crashing down really fast if I fucked with their perceptions of me.  So for once in my life after what should have been death, I let someone know _me_.  Spike, Jet, and Ed became my family, and I loved them.  Jet was a father, or maybe an older brother.  Ed was a little sister…or maybe a brother.  She was _something_.  And Spike…he was something else entirely.

When I realized that I was in love with him, my instincts told me to keep it quiet, ignore it until it went away.  There was no way that the infamous Faye Valentine could fall in love with _any_ man.  There was no such _thing_ as love in my world.  It was all a trick of the mind, a mixture of lust and confused feelings that made a person feel like all they needed in the world was the attention and acceptance of that _one_ other person.  Life couldn't be something so simple.  It couldn't all come down to what one man thought of me.  And yet…in the end, that's really what it was to me.  I didn't want to be weak.  I didn't want to rely on someone so much.  And so, after I admitted my feelings in a moment of weakness, when I had deluded myself into thinking he might feel the same way, I shut my heart away again.  I was so angry that he hadn't immediately reciprocated that I couldn't bring myself to think that maybe…just maybe, there was the slightest chance.  He said no, he said he was sorry, and I took what he gave at face value.

I remember when I was little asking my mother what love was, and she told me that in this world, there were all sorts of people born everywhere.  She told me that our whole lives we would look for the one person who had spent _their_ whole life searching for us.  And when we found that person, it was like two puzzle pieces falling into place.  Everything would just click, and life would be perfect.  She told me that was how she felt about my father, and that if I was lucky, I would find that person one day, when I was older.

Maybe I still believed that to some degree, and so it only made sense to me that I _couldn't_ really be in love with Spike.  He had already been in love with the wonderful Julia, and there was certainly no clicking occurring between the two of us.  But then he kissed me.  And it made me wonder.  What if someone fell in love with someone else, and then that person died?  After that, the person who was left…could they be expected to go their whole life missing the one they lost?  Would they meet someone else?  Was it _possible_ to love more than one person?  And if it was, then what if Julia never _had_ died?  Would things still have come so far between Spike and I?  Was he just trying to find someone to replace the one he'd lost?

Where was my mom when I _really_ needed to ask her something?  I was pretty sure that Jet wouldn't be any help when it came to these questions.  After all, I knew that he'd had a girl once…but did he really have the knowledge to tell me what I wanted to know?  Could anyone _but_ Spike answer my questions?  And could Spike even answer them himself?  I wasn't sure, and I didn't really relish the idea of asking him about things that could prove to be so utterly uncomfortable.  For about three weeks after the examination and the kiss, I avoided Spike completely.  I found out that this wasn't nearly as difficult as one would think, considering we lived in the same, limited space.  Maybe he was embarrassed, or maybe he regretted kissing me.  Whatever it was, he was just as quick to get away from me as I was to get away from him.  This resulted in a cold, unspoken peace on the ship whereby we were actually reasonably polite to each other.  I think Jet assumed that we had come to some sort of agreement, and though that was the case, our agreement was just to act like the other person didn't exist.

This might have worked a lot better had the baby just never been born, but unfortunately, babies don't just stay inside their mother's stomachs forever.  Eventually, there has to be the actual birth.  And though I should have expected it, something like that tends to take you by surprise no matter how you've planned for it.

----------

"Ugh, not oatmeal _again_." I moaned miserably as Jet set the big pot down at the table.  The bearded man gave me a long-suffering look, waiting for Ed to fill her bowl with the pasty glop before pushing the pot toward me insistently.

"It's good for the baby." He claimed, the same excuse I heard every time I complained about the bland diet as of late.  "I want you to eat at least a full bowl of it this time.  And don't try dropping it in Ein's dish again."

"I hate this stuff." I grumbled, disappointed that he'd found out my strategy to avoid being stuffed with the flavorless mush.  "It's so boring."  Jet ignored my complaints, scooping the breakfast gruel into my bowl until it was nearly overflowing, and I sighed mournfully as I took an obliging spoonful and stared at it with a grimace on my face.  Jet turned to look expectantly at Spike, who was silently picking at his own half-full bowl of oatmeal.  Jet kept thinking to get Spike on his side whenever he was trying to get me to eat something or do something "for the baby," but ever since the kiss, Spike avoided talking to me at all.  So of course, instead of agreeing with Jet and telling me to eat my food, he just took a hesitant bite of the oatmeal as we both pretended not to notice that we were sitting about two feet apart.  It was a surprisingly convincing act, all things considered.

"It may be boring, but it's _still_ good for you." Jet insisted, going back to his own breakfast and shoveling in determinedly, as though he thought that by showing some enthusiasm he would trick me into thinking that oatmeal _didn't_ taste like cardboard.  Yeah right.

"Just because something _tastes_ good doesn't mean it's going to kill me."  I informed him primly as I suffered through a spoonful of oatmeal sliding down my throat.  Over the past week, my mild distaste of oatmeal had turned into a full-blown disgust.  This was all thanks to Jet's admirable concern for the health of me and my baby.  I was _really_ appreciating it, as you might have been able to guess.

"Faye-faye?" Ed had already polished off her first bowl of oatmeal and was serving herself seconds when she addressed me with the same question she'd been asking me daily for about twenty days.  "Is the baby ready yet?"

"Not yet." I answered patiently.  I grew irritated at times with everyone's constant concern for my baby, but at the same time, it was really very touching.  This was my family, after all, and the fact that they were all there for me when I needed them the most only cemented our bonds.  Well, for the most part that was true.  It seemed to cause nothing but strife between Spike and I.

"Wasn't your due date two weeks ago?" Jet asked, and this actually got a response from Spike, but only because he could make it appear that he was talking to _Jet_ and not me.

"Sixteen days ago." He corrected between slow spoonfuls of oatmeal.  He was eyeing Ein's food dish in a way that seemed to insinuate that he was beginning to think that my oatmeal ploy had been quite the clever one.

"Well, you can never be exactly sure about these things." I told Jet, pushing my oatmeal around my bowl with the back of my spoon.  "Doctor Galen said that if I hit nine months he'd like to induce labor, since that's standard with this sort of situation."

"I bet." Spike snorted snidely, and it gave me pause.  Did he just talk to me?  I shook my head slightly and focused on my conversation with Jet.

"He gave me some pamphlets to explain what happens, and it all seems pretty safe, so if it does come to that then there's really nothing to worry about.  Sometimes the babies just don't want to come, you know?" I explained.

"Of course.  Doctor _Galen_ would never do anything strange." Spike grumbled angrily, and I slammed my spoon down.  Fine.  If he wanted to end our truce, that was his problem.

"Would you shut _up_ about that?  He's just a doctor.  He's _supposed_ to be friendly." I insisted.

"I don't think anyone has a reason to get _that_ friendly with you." Spike argued, more than willing to cast aside our silence for the hate of his new least favorite person, my doctor.

"All he did was examine me!  You need to _grow up_!" I shot him an angry glare, but I couldn't stifle the embarrassed blush that was caused by playing out our argument in front of the rest of the crew.  I really hated to lay my private life out where everyone could see it, and I decided to get out of the room before things got any worse.  I stood up and shot him a furious look before turning to leave, but Spike was right behind me, unwilling to cut our argument off in the middle.  For us, it usually couldn't end until someone was in tears or seriously injured.  Or until Jet broke it up.

"Hey!  Don't just run away cause you know I'm right!" Spike was right behind me, and he pulled at my arm with a sharp yank that threw my balance off so badly I thought I'd fall over for a moment in the narrow hallway that led to our rooms.  However, he caught me and held me by the arms, looking down at me in irritation.  "You can't just ignore me."

"Watch me." I shot back, trying to pull away, but his grip was like a vice.  I suddenly remembered a very different time in this hallway; so long ago I had all but forgotten.  In my towel…I attacked him…he kissed me.  I felt a twinge of fear and exhilaration.  What did he intend to do?

"Why are you acting like this?" he wanted to know, his voice soft and harsh all at once, the tone so low that I barely caught it even though I was inches from his face.

"Like what?" I wasn't sure what he was asking, and maybe he wasn't either.  So instead of answering, he just pushed me against the wall and pressed an insistent kiss to my lips.  After a few shocked moments, he pulled away, staring at me as though he was looking for some sort of reaction.  Whatever it was that he wanted, though, it would have to wait.  I had some more pressing matters to attend to at the moment, it seemed.

"Faye?" he must have seen the way all the color drained from my face, the panic and worry written there as clearly as though I had the words printed on my face for the whole world to see.  "Faye…are you okay?"

"I…we…tell Jet." I was having a hard time communicating at the moment, but in my defense I was pretty surprised.  Of all the moments, it had to be _this_ time, when everything else was drawing close together and I was wound up so tight I felt as though I might snap.  Maybe, for a second I _did_ snap.  But Spike's hands squeezing my shoulders brought me back to reality.  I was in a situation where I couldn't afford to space out.  Things were serious, now.

"Tell Jet _what_?" Spike was utterly confused as I leaned forward, unsure whether I could stand on my own at that moment, my legs were so weak from the shock.  Pressing my face to his chest, I found the strength to speak.

"My water just broke." I told him, a waver in my voice betraying the nervousness that wracked my mind even as I leaned against Spike for support.  "We need to go to the hospital.  It's time."

Spike's reply was a few moments in coming, and his voice was nearly a squawk of dismay.  "Time?"

"Yeah.  The baby's coming." I confirmed, and it was as though something clicked into place.  It didn't matter what disagreements we had, or what had happened between us to make things increasingly awkward.  Spike and I were in the same boat at that moment, and we knew that if either of us let go, we'd sink.  So we held on.  And hoped to everything that Jet would take the news a lot more calmly than either of _us_ did.

----------

"Faye, we really need to talk." Spike was holding my hand, and at any other time I might have been incredibly romanced and enchanted by the affectionate gesture.  But at _this_ time, my body was going through the grueling process of labor, whereby a hole the size of a pea adjusts itself to allow the passage of something about the size of a watermelon.  It's not a happy time, and it's not a time for sappy talk or touchy-feely handholding.

"No, no we don't." I assured him, hissing through clenched teeth as sweat beaded up on my face.  A nurse reached over to wipe my brow dutifully before handing me a glass of water, which I downed in one gulp before thrusting back at her.  She angered me.  I think it was because she kept smiling and was not in any sort of discomfort at the moment.  Some women have all the luck.

"How's it going in here?" Doctor Galen entered, looking as calm and patient as ever.

"This sucks." I informed him immediately.  "Is it _really_ going to hurt more than this?" I wanted to know.  Spike actually had the audacity to _snort_ at this.

"You've taken a bullet and you can't handle something like _this_?" he wanted to know.  I squeezed his hand as hard as humanly possible.  Probably a little harder than that.  I was pretty angry at the moment, and he was the main source of my anger.  Stupid impregnator.  Damn him and his seductive ways.  He was even hot right _then!_  Being all sensitive…well, sensitive for Spike, I suppose.  I hated him so much.

"You try it, asshole." I gritted the words out as I clenched down even tighter, courtesy of the extra pain of my latest contraction.  They were seemingly right on top of each other, and Doctor Galen was down between my legs in a way that had Spike looking ready to shoot him, but I think my death glare put an end to his homicidal urges as he simply concentrated on trying to get me to loosen up on his hand.  

"We seem to be just about ready to push.  You up to it, Faye?" Doctor Galen was so cheery that _I_ wanted to shoot him, so I had to breath deeply and remind myself that shooting the doctor would _not_ make the situation better.

"It's coming _now_?  We don't even have a name picked." Spike protested weakly, and out of my pure anger toward him, I sucked in a huge breath and pushed as hard as I possibly could.  Big mistake.

"Holy shit!" Those were the first two audible words I got out after a wordless, completely undignified shriek of pain.  But really, when your feet are up in stirrups and you're wearing one of those paper gowns, holding hands with the one person you hate the most in the world at that moment, it's really hard to be concerned with dignity.  Plus, it hurt like hell.

"Ah…okay then.  That was definitely a good one." Doctor Galen was out of sight now, blocked from view by my gown, which was slowly bunching back down around my upper thighs.  As I said before, total loss of dignity.  "Well, now that you're this far…push again."

"Again?  Are you crazy?  There's no _way_ I'm doing that again." I argued, but then a contraction hit, and I discovered that even though it hurt to push, it hurt almost as much to _not_ push when I was so close to crowning.  "Fuck!"

"I told you to push.  The baby _has_ to come out eventually.  The more you cooperate, the quicker it will be done with." Doctor Galen told me patiently.  It occurred to me at that moment that there were at least three other nurses in the room.  They all seemed to be doing things, but it was just making the room crowded and hotter.  I was a very unhappy woman in labor.  And I wanted Spike to suffer so much.  So without warning, I pushed down, clenching all my muscles and concentrating especially hard on squeezing his hand.  I heard a couple joints pop, but whether they were mine or not, I couldn't tell.  He looked extremely pale, so that was good.

"I hate you so much right now." I hissed before pushing again at the doctor's cue.  Spike's eyes goggled, though I really doubted that he took me seriously.  He was probably just really sick of having his hand crushed into oblivion by my suddenly much stronger grip.  I couldn't have been more pleased with his suffering at that moment.  It almost made the pain bearable as I pushed again and again, glaring at Spike with a pure, unrestrained anger that I'd never felt before.  Why the hell had he done this to me?  I was _sure_ it was all a plot to make me feel the worst pain that had _ever_ existed.

"When this is done…I'm killing you." I was completely serious when I said it.  You have to understand that I had reached a point where I wasn't even screaming anymore, it hurt _that_ bad.  The screaming just didn't do justice to how I felt, and it was really starting to strain my throat.  I wanted my voice for yelling at Spike, so I just dedicated myself to squeezing Spike's hand until it fell off.  At this point, it seemed completely possible to me.  I hurt so badly that I was sure I would never be able to walk or do much of _anything_ after the damn baby was finally born.  It was so much worse than I had expected, and all I could do was shift my surprise to anger.  And there was really only one person to be angry with.  That damnable Spike Spiegel and his damn look of concern.  It was _obviously_ fake.  He _wanted_ me to suffer, I knew it!  Why else would any human being allow this to happen to another?

"Faye!" The doctor was yelling my name, and I'd been so lost in my anger that I hadn't heard him.  "Faye, you can stop already!"

"It's…out?"  The concept took a moment or two to sink in, and the look on Spike's face was utterly priceless.  I can hardly describe it, but it was a mixture of horror, surprise, and excitement that I doubt I will _ever_ have the pleasure of seeing again.  And that's when it all came flooding back into me.  The pain and the anxiety and the sudden indescribable _joy_.  The baby…after all this time.  It was really there!  "Can I see it?"

"Congratulations." Doctor Galen was handed a bundle that one of the nurses had obviously just cleaned and swaddled, and he handed it to me.  "It's a healthy baby boy."

Now, I was near delirium for the entirety of the birth.  To this day, Spike tells the story as though it was _hours_ of pushing and cursing and verbal abuse on my part, but I don't really remember that much.  I _do_ remember, however, the first moment I saw my son's face.  I was crying, and I didn't even realize it until there was a splash on the beautiful pink face below me.  I swear that he was the single most adorable thing I had ever seen, and it took my breath away.  I couldn't even _believe_ that we had made something so perfect.

"He's beautiful…" I whispered, probably sounding idiotic after all the blubbering I was doing over the poor, as of yet unnamed child.  But Spike didn't tease me.  He didn't make a joke at my expense, or even say something about boy's not being beautiful.  He kissed my forehead, and it seemed just as natural as though we had been together for the longest time.  He was leaning over me to see the baby better, and when he finally did speak, all he could say was almost exactly how I felt.

"This is it." He breathed, staring at the baby like it was the solution to all the problems in the universe.  "This is the best thing I've ever done."

So I didn't hate him anymore.  I loved him.  But I couldn't ruin such a perfect moment by saying it.  I just couldn't.  So I stayed there, holding my baby and letting Spike lean over both of us, his arm curled around my head so he could get closer.  I didn't want it to end, but the nurses came to make sure I got my rest, taking away the boy and shooing Spike from the room so I could sleep after a quick post-natal exam.  Spike lingered, however, and it seemed as though we both felt like something needed to be said.  But at a moment like that, what _can_ you say, really?

----------

"So, does it have a name yet?" Jet wanted to know as Ed bounced on the other side of my bed, trying to get as close to the baby as possible.  Spike lingered at the window, watching over us both so carefully I felt sure that he really _could_ be a good father.  The baby had been born the previous afternoon, and even though it was early in the morning, I had really wanted to let Jet and Ed see the baby.  They were my family, too, after all.

"Not yet." I admitted.  "We actually never got around to boy names." I told the older man.

"When will it open it's eyes?" Ed was utterly fascinated with the tiny infant, and I couldn't help but smile at her.  I had asked the same question when Doctor Galen had last visited.

"Probably soon.  Before we go home, I'm sure.  We have to name it before we leave, though." I told them.

"Any ideas, Spike?" Jet asked, smiling at the other man perched on the windowsill.

"Not any _good_ ones, apparently." Spike was very bitter that I wasn't naming the child anything ridiculous or cheesy.  He thought all my names were pansy though, so he could just shut the hell up.

"We're working on it." I told Jet sheepishly.  "I know we'll find something we can agree on soon."

"Well, it's a really good looking baby.  You two must be really proud." He told us, a kind of pride in his own voice at the fact that everything seemed to be alright with our baby.  He probably thought it was the oatmeal that had saved it.

"We are." Spike affirmed so matter of factly that I was shocked.  He had come in with Jet and Ed an hour ago when visiting hours started, but he had said very little.  I had thought he was still angry about the endless name debate of the night before, but the way he was looking at me…it wasn't angry.  And it actually scared me just a little.  Jet gave me a long hard look before turning and heading for the door with a slightly unwilling Ed.

"Well…we've been here long enough.  I'm sure you're tired." He turned to leave and Ed waved back enthusiastically before I could say anything.  And then we were alone.  Well, the baby was still there, but other than that, we were alone.

"We still need to talk." Spike told me, his voice so utterly calm I was frankly terrified and confused all at once.

"About what?" I wanted to know.  "I've got a couple new ideas for a name…"

"Not that." He cut me off.  "About us."

"And the baby?" I added.

"No.  Just us." He told me, coming over to sit next to my bed.

"But Spike…it can't just be us, no matter what.  This baby's too important for that." I insisted.  I think that I knew where the conversation was headed and I was just trying to stop it from getting there.

"Don't screw around Faye, I'm serious.  I know the kid's important.  You think I don't know that?  You think I don't care about it just like you do?" He wanted to know, but he didn't really give me time to answer.  "Faye, I don't want there to be any misunderstandings here, so you need to know that no matter how much I love that kid, you're something entirely different."

"I…know."  That didn't make it hurt less.

"And I'm in love with you."

*****

The End (Of Chapter 15, That Is)


	16. Faye, WHY Are You Fighting This?

Okay…if my computer eats this file again, there will _be_ no sap!  Got that, computer!  No sap whatsoever!  And everyone will blame _you_.  That's right.  Now let's get this going on before she freaks out and freezes randomly eating my super well done chapter AGAIN!!! Gah.  Not that I'm bitter…but if I was.

*****

One More Try

Part 16

*****

"I'm in love with you." In that moment, I felt as though time slowed down and everything stretched out, becoming somehow more real and less defined all at the same time.  Things like the bright hum of the white room blurred into the background, while the shape of Spike's face, the angle of his neck tilted slightly to one side, the way his arms were in his lap, hands clasped together in a seemingly casual gesture belied by his white knuckles, and the way his lips formed each word, his Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke…these things were thrown into sharp relief.  I could feel the weight of the baby on my slightly swollen chest; I could feel a knot tying in my stomach tightly as my throat stubbornly closed, as though trying to block the words from entering me.  But they were like a wave of warmth hitting me and soaking into me and then it was too hot and I was burning up and why couldn't I breathe or blink or speak or move?  An adorable noise distracted me, my son yawning and stretching in his tight swaddling, completely unaware of the gravity of the situation.  Did he realize the importance of the events that were taking place?  We could be in the process of deciding his entire future, but he only seemed to care about that constant fatigue that newborns experience for a few days after birth.

"He's sleepy." My lips were dry and my voice fell off, unable to carry the gravity that his had managed so easily only moments earlier.  I turned my face down as my vision blurred, and I knew there were tears, but I couldn't let them fall, not where Spike could see.  I couldn't let him beat me so easily.  I had known only days ago that this was all an illusion.  He loved the baby boy in my arms; that was true.  He could never love me.  He could never…

Well, that wasn't _entirely_ true.  There were two Spikes that I knew.  The one that most people knew was something perfect and amazing and cool and so irresistible, and he _knew_ it.  He was maddeningly confident and assured and he only loved someone as ephemeral and perfect as himself.  He didn't love people who made mistakes or woke up with their hair in a mess and their mascara smeared.  The woman _he_ loved would have to be someone who did everything effortlessly and perfectly and without regrets and in a way that made you _wish_ you were her.  The woman he loved would wake up ready for the day with no problems and no past, at least none that she would ever mention or linger over.  The woman he loved was Julia.  And when she was gone, as all things so beautiful and perfect were doomed to die in the peak of their enviable existence so that you never _stopped_ coveting that life and that aloof grandeur…when she died, he would just smoke his cigarette in a dark room, drink a shot for her and move on like nothing had happened.  Because he had no past, and when love died, it died all the way, without scars or pain or anything of the sort.

The Spike that was harder to find was the one inside of that shell that I called Cool Spike.  Inside, there was a real person who made mistakes and said stupid things and felt remorse and regretted his past mistakes and _cried_ when love died and left him all alone and cold as the first winter frost.  He wasn't perfect, and he couldn't control his emotions very well, and he was more of a little boy looking for someone to tell him everything was all right than anything else.  He was true and gritty and full of pain and dreams and loss and hope and every other emotion and vice and virtue that anyone could ever think of, and then some.  He was selfish at times, but he depended on others and he couldn't let them go any more than he could bury his past as deeply as he wanted.  He ate children's cereal and picked out all the blue marshmallows while watching cartoons with the dog he would _never_ admit to petting while sharing the couch with him.  He had a hard time matching colors effectively, so he only wore a very few outfits that had proven tried and true and comfortable over the years, and he kept a picture of his dead lover in his underwear drawer next to his gun like some sort of reminder of everything bad and good that he had ever done.  He missed his mother still and wished he'd known his father better, and he still wondered if there was any way to save his soul and if he should risk his heart on anything else after all that had gone wrong so far.  He smiled like a dope when he held his baby, and he had absolutely no idea what to make of a woman that honestly knew him inside and out better than any other person ever had in his entire life.  Was she his friend, his partner, his lover, or was she just a weakness?

I could count the number of times I'd encountered the real Spike on both hands without running out of fingers, but the fact remained that I _had_ been allowed past Cool Spike more than any other person he had admitted to knowing.

_You see my eyes?  One's a fake because I lost it in an accident and had to get it replaced._

And when he makes his appearance, you _know_ it.  The first time I saw the real Spike, I thought I'd eaten something drugged to be able to imagine so much emotion and conflict dwelling within the man who, I had thought, could feel nothing and cared for no one.

_I didn't mean that I didn't want you to do it. I was just saying you shouldn't feel like you're forced to._

This other Spike cared about people, and he had his faults that could be exploited just like any other person.  There were half-healed wounds and weak spots all over his soul, but I wasn't interested in hurting the man that was hidden from most of the world.

_Don't try to talk now…scared us shitless…_

No, I couldn't hurt someone who obviously valued me after I'd thought no one ever would.  I couldn't kill my link with the man inside the shell, the man that had drawn me to him from the start, trying everything I could to get glimpses, the tiniest, most dreamlike moments where he was someone else.

_I wouldn't have hurt you, I swear._

And in those moments I was just as weak as he was.  Maybe more so.  I didn't think that I was normally as guarded as Spike was, but I was defenseless when he used the deadliest weapon he had on me.  Sincerity.

_We all care about you, you know.  It's not because you have a pretty face._

When he was honest, his sweetness was easily a hundred times stronger than any angry insults he'd ever flung at me.  It took a lot for Cool Spike to get me to actually cry, but Real Spike…

_You have to know that whatever else there is to deal with, I want to be there with you._

He had me in a few heartfelt words, a vague admission of emotions was enough for my entire soul to melt and he controlled _everything_ I felt and did, or so it seemed.  How could that possibly be fair?  How could that be right?

_We just can't get along._

_Then why are you in love with me?_

_I don't really know.  It's how I feel about you.  It doesn't have to make sense._

And the way he was staring at me was so true, so sincere, so bare and honest and utterly vulnerable, I knew I didn't have a chance against him.  And with the baby there…

_It's weird.  Doesn't it feel like we're a family?_

The baby…was it that?  Was that what he really loved?  Not me or my quirks or all my endless mistakes and faults and vices and shortfalls?

_No matter how much I love that kid, you're something entirely different._

_And I'm in love with you._

Oh yes…that's what he said, wasn't it?  My brain seemed to be taking an unbelievably long time to process all this, and I still couldn't decide what I was supposed to do about any of it.  But he was looking at me.  And I could see it there, in his eyes.  He really _did_ care about me, maybe he even loved me, baby or no.  The way only the real Spike, who was rarely allowed to see the world, could.  Cool Spike might think I'm good for a lay…but there was no way he'd love me.

"No." I didn't even realize I'd said it until the hazy look in Spike's eyes dissipated and hardened.  He looked…injured?

"What do you mean, no?" he asked after a long silence.

"I mean…it's not real, is it?  If it's only the real you that cares about me and not the rest of you…it's not really love then, is it?" I wanted to know.  I don't think he realized that it _wasn't_ a rhetorical question.  I was unsure about everything at that moment.

"You don't make sense." His voice lost some of the warmth and reality it had carried.  He was pulling away, protecting himself, hiding under his covers like a little boy running from the monster under his bed.  "If the real me loves you how much more real can it get?  Who cares what I am for other people?  I'm showing you _this_.  What else do you want?"

"What else do I want?" I was incredulous.  How could he even _ask_ something like that?  "I'm in love with you, Spike.  I'm _really_ in love with you.  I don't fake it and I can't turn it off when I want and I can't bury it when I don't want anyone else to see.  Everyone can _tell_, Spike!  It's pathetic, because you won't give me anything in return and it's killing me."

"I just _said_ I love you!" Spike was utterly bewildered, but how could he understand something that was so closely tied to emotions.  To the heart.  To reality.  He hid from that everyday, and it was like it didn't exist to him anymore.

"You said that, but what you mean is that you love me _sometimes_.  I don't want some half-ass commitment from you because the baby's making you feel all paternal and shit.  I don't want you to give me a piece of you when I never have a chance at the rest.  I want it _all_, Spike.  That's what I want, and until you can give me that, I don't want to hear anything less from you." I surmised.  There was a long silence, and I thought he was going to leave.  I busied myself with the baby, stroking it's hair and feeling the softness of it's face under my fingers.

"You know what?" he spoke up, and I was so surprised I let out a sort of yelp that startled the baby slightly before it yawned and went back to sleep.  "You don't know everything about me."

"Don't I?" I rolled my eyes.  I had _no_ time for his moping.

"Let me tell you something right now." He was still in that chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.  I couldn't see his face, and that worried me, but he continued to speak in that steady, determined tone.  "That time you said my coffee was too weak?  I couldn't stand it at first how strong you wanted it, but I drank it so that you'd be satisfied.  And when you wanted some cheese three months ago, I went to six different towns before I found a store that sold anything I knew you'd eat.  And you always like a fresh towel when you shower, so I bought a new set after you'd been on the Bebop for a month.  And when you pull out my stitches you hold your breath like you're worried about me.  And you hate being on back up, but I hate it even worse to send you ahead when I know something could happen.  And when you pet my hair, I always think it feels like home and that I never want to leave, but if I say anything you'll know and you'll be gone.  And you really _can_ fix me, you know?  You have already, so much more than you know.  And after Vicious, I would have stayed away, but you were so worried, and it made me feel so good to know you cared.  And sometimes I wait for you to take a shower so I can yell at you in there, even though I don't really need the bathroom.  I just like your voice when it's angry.  And I hate it when you cry, but I love that you let me see it, even just sometimes.  And I don't _mean_ to hide from you but there's just…don't you know?  Don't you know how scary it is to love someone so much you think that if you lose them, you'll die?  _That's_ the real thing.   That's me, on _every_ side and everyone knows it, too.  Didn't you _know_ that?  Jet's known for so long it's ridiculous.  Everyone that sees us thinks we're together, and it's not the baby.  It's the way we look at each other and we know…we know this is right and this is real and I'm sorry, Faye.  I tried to forget that it could be good because I was so afraid of all the bad and it was stupid of me.  But I _do_ love you.  I do."

What do you say after something like that?  What _can_ you say?

"I love you too." Seemed fitting, though a bit cliché.  Oh well, not like anyone but the baby could hear us and he was a little young to mock our sappiness.  Shifting my arms slightly, I moved my right hand over to touch the still downcast head of hair that was waiting for me there.  Closing my eyes, I burrowed my fingers into the fluffy warmth of Spike's hair, and I heard him let out a deep breath he must have been holding ever since he finished talking.  And he was right.

It did feel like home.

Like family.

----------

"Give me that thing.  You're banned from the name book." I told him as I snatched the dog-eared volume from Spike's grasp he was flipping through on the edge of my bed, his legs hanging off the side while he tried to get the book back.  The nurses had just left to take the baby's handprints, footprints, and put it down for a nap.  I missed him a little, but it was a good time to get down to the business of naming.  Spike and I hadn't even _gotten_ to boy names, and so of course, it was a boy.  Fate was cruel.

"I don't see what's wrong with _my_ names." He wanted to know.  "I didn't want to name him _Carter_."

"Carter's a very good name." I defended.  "What about…Andrew?"

"Dorky." He shot it down immediately.  "What about this?  We both write down ten names we like, and then give them to each other.  Then we both pick the best from each list and decide from those."

"What if I don't like _any_ of your ten?" I wanted to know.

"Too bad, you still have to pick the best one." Spike shook off my protest.  "It's a compromise Faye, get it straight."

"Okay, but then how do we pick?  You'll want your name and I'll want mine." I pointed out the problem that we'd been having all evening.

"Rock paper scissors for the winner if we can't agree." Spike suggested.  "And the loser can be the baby's middle name.  Fair?"

"That's actually…a pretty good plan." I smiled in surprise.  I liked it when Spike was reasonable; it was so much better than usual.  "Okay, let's do it."  It was the work of a few moments to get pencil and paper for both of us, but after that, the list making got messy.  It took almost half an hour of cursing and stealing the book from each other, scribbling out one name and then another as we realized that _any_ of the names on the list could be the baby's actual name, and I think we were both suspicious that our least favorite choices would be the one name that the other picked.  So we were really careful to make certain that we would be happy with all the names on the list, as we couldn't be sure which one would end up as the final nominee.  Despite that, it _was_ a really good plan to make sure that we both got a fair say in the naming and that in the end, if we didn't pick between two, we could just solve it with a simple game.

I knew that there had to be a _good_ reason I was in love with Spike.

Of course, thinking that only made me blush furiously as I remembered everything that had happened after Ed and Jet's visit that morning.  Spike seemed to have taken my initial doubt as some sort of challenge, and he hadn't left the hospital all day, staying in my room except to use the bathroom and get something to eat in the nasty hospital cafeteria.  Now if _that_ isn't love, I don't know what is.

"What are you thinking about?" Spike was looking at me, and that only made me blush worse.  He smiled in the most infuriatingly smug way, as he obviously had figured out what my problem was and only thought it was funny.  Leaning toward me, he scooted a little further up on the bed and braced himself with one hand on the other side of my body so that he could lean down to kiss my forehead in an almost chaste fashion.  Moving to the side, he edged his hand up over my stomach, taking in the curve as he smiled at me cheekily.  "You're still fat, I see."

"Smart ass." I rolled my eyes and shoved him away.  Just because things were all…out in the open, that didn't mean I'd just play doormat, and I think he was trying to tell me the same thing.  It was nice to know.  Some things would change, but we were still _us_, when it came down to it.  And that's how I wanted it, really.  "What'd you think, I'd deflate like a balloon?  It'll take a while to get back in shape now."

"Good.  I don't work with fat women." Spike told me, and even though I wanted to smack him upside the head, I gathered that it was his roundabout way of saying that he didn't want me jumping straight into work after I got out of the hospital.  After all, I _had_ just given birth.  It made sense in a stupid, male, overprotective way.

"I don't work with self-centered men." I countered, sticking out my tongue quickly.  "But since we have no choice, we'll just have to deal."

"Okay…you done with your list?" he asked me, handing me his and taking the slip of paper I'd finished with away.  "Time for naming.  We can talk about your weight problem later."

"Don't make me kick your ass off my bed, asshole." I threatened idly as I scanned his list and worried the end of my pencil with my lips, trying to decide on the best name.  Not all of them were as horrible as I expected, and I was actually stuck between three that I considered pretty…good.  Spike seemed to be going through a similar ordeal, but after some time he crumpled the paper and looked at me expectantly.  I nodded and made my final decision.

"Okay…some of them were stupid, but Alexander seems okay." He told me.  I was surprised.  I thought for _sure_ he wouldn't want anything so long.  "We could just call him Alex."  Oh, I should have seen that one coming.  Not that I minded the nickname thing.  It made sense, and it was inevitable that someone would shorten the kid's name at some point.

"Fine, as long as the certificate says Alexander." I allowed.  He was staring at me expectantly, so I looked back down at the list and bit my lip.  "Okay…um, I think Tyler's a good name…I could work with that."

"We could call him Ty." Spike pointed out, grinning in ridiculous smugness.

"Whatever.  So are we battling this one out?" I wanted to know.  I definitely liked Alex better than Ty.

"I think so.  Rock paper scissors.  If I win, it's Ty." Spike looked as serious as though he was explaining a battle plan.

"Tyler." I corrected.  "And if I win, it's Alexander."  We were staring at each other, both of us refusing to blink, intense determination all over our faces.  "Ready?"  I held out my fist.

"Rock, paper, scissors!" We both exclaimed in overly loud voices, letting our hands take their final shape.  I squealed excitedly when I saw that Spike was a rock, and I covered his hand with my "paper."

"I win!" I clutched his hand firmly.  "Paper beats rock!"

"It's still a good name." He allowed after a brief mope of defeat.  "You think?"

"Alexander Tyler…" I trailed off there.  I realized that the baby would have my last name, and somehow it seemed strange.

"What?  Does it sound weird?  I thought it was fine." Spike was still all concern for the name, so he hadn't quite caught onto the reason I stopped halfway.

"Valentine." I finished quietly.  "It's kinda weird, you know?"

"What?" he asked me.

"I like it better with your name." I spoke softly, fiddling with the fold of hospital blanket bunched up under my breasts.  "Weird, huh?"  He didn't say anything, and I wondered if he'd heard, but when he tilted my chin up to kiss me on the lips, I knew that he understood.  It was strange, knowing that Spike understood me.  It was like all the false barriers we'd hidden behind before were gone.  We weren't by any means thinking in the same way, but we understood each other a lot better now.  It was easier.  There was less to worry about.  Things were simpler and complicated all at once.  I think that's what love is.

And that kiss, it was so sweet.

*****

The End (Of Part 16, That Is) 


	17. About Time

Well, that was certainly well received.  It seems that you were all able to appreciate the ripening of the sweet sweet fruits of last chapter…yes, I need to just shut up and write the next chapter before I start waxing poetic.

*****

One More Try

Part 17

*****

"Okay…go ahead and look." Jet's mouth was twitching at the hint of a smile as he opened the door to my room upon my return from the hospital to the Bebop.  Spike was right beside me, seeming as though he still wasn't convinced I should be walking around, much less walking around while carrying _our_ baby.  Alex was sleeping soundly as he had been for nearly an hour now.  It was a wonderful thing, but I knew that soon enough, he'd wake up squalling and ready to be fed.  I stepped past Jet to see whatever it was he had done to my room while I was gone and my mouth dropped open in surprise.

"You…where did you get it?" I indicated the crib that was neatly assembled at the foot of my bed, made up with the blankets I had purchased just last month and some sheets and pillows that Jet must have also found on his own.  Jet merely shrugged at my question as though he found it much more amusing when I _didn't_ get to know everything.  Well, fine.  It didn't really matter where he'd gotten the crib.  After all, it wasn't like he'd purchased it in the black market.

"Do you like it?" Jet wanted to know, and he was just as excited as the redhead who was bouncing up and down beside him.  Ed was so wound up about everything she couldn't decide whether to attack Spike, Alex, me, or all three of us, so she was still just bouncing.  "Think of it as a birthday present for the baby."

"Thanks!  Thank you so much…"  I didn't know what to say, so I gave him a smile that obviously conveyed how grateful I felt for everything he'd done for me, considering the modest blush that graced his cheeks as he scratched the back of his head.

"Ah, don't worry about it." He told me, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably.  "Just hope everything's fine in here…I think I'll go start dinner then." And with that he was gone.  At the word "dinner," Ein followed the tall man, and since Ein followed, so did Ed.  Spike stepped into the room to get a better look at the crib, and he seemed to be staring at it very hard.

"Nice, isn't it?" I asked him, still smiling warmly from my excitement at receiving the unexpected gift.  He turned to me, a small smile on his lips momentarily before he spoke.

"Yeah, it's nice." And then he lapsed back into pensive silence.  It was unbelievably awkward, and I couldn't think of why we suddenly seemed to have a rift of silence between us.  It was just a crib, after all.  It didn't change the fact that he loved me and I loved him.

"Is something wrong?" I asked him after a while, shifting Alex in my arms to a more comfortable position.

"I was just thinking." He shrugged.  "I mean, is it a good idea to share a room?"

"With Alex?" my brow furrowed in disbelief.  "Yeah, I'm his _mom_, remember?"

"No…ah, never mind." Spike looked extremely flustered, and I realized that I _must_ have missed something there, although I couldn't tell what it was that had slipped past my notice so cleanly.  Arms full of babies are distracting like that.

"Well…I'm pretty tired." I yawned and turned to lay Alex down in the crib.  It was a tricky procedure to pull off without disturbing the little guy, and of course I failed miserably.  He wasn't even halfway down when I was pulling him up again to try and bounce away those early whimpers that build into full-blown tantrums.

"I can take him." Spike volunteered as the baby calmed slightly, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Now that he's feeling sleepy again, I'm sure you could." I teased him.  Now, I wasn't intending to be mean, but apparently neither of us had gotten enough sleep, and Spike's face was quickly arranged in an indignant scowl that I was all too familiar with.

"Whatever." He turned and left the room.  I sighed and turned to the baby who was now making soft noises against my shoulder.

"Promise me you _won't_ turn out like that?" I asked, and in response he blinked bright green eyes at me.  I guess I took that as a yes.  Hell, it was better than nothing.

----------

I'm going to tell you something now that is very important and may even affect your future choices if you have yet to approach the child issue.  Children are _not_ easy.  They take a lot of work, and for a long time, it seems that all they can do is cry, wet themselves, eat, wet themselves again, and then commence with the crying.  Yes, it's really not as fun as it seems to be in _theory_, and I was learning that really fast with Alex, who Spike had taken to calling Ty as his own form of rebellion against the "dork name."  The most irritating thing was that for _some_ reason, Jet was calling the baby Ty as well, and so of course Ed started in on it.  And I felt distinctly as though I had been tricked out of my right at first name picking privileges.  I won rock paper scissors fair and square, after all.  Oh well, I suppose Ty isn't that bad, and it wasn't like the kid would have a hard time _spelling_ it.  Not that I was worried he wouldn't be _the_ single smartest baby in the universe, but all the same.  It made things simpler.  And at least I knew that his _real_ name was Alex.  Er…Alexander.  Yes.

Now, to the point of all this.  You see, Alex or Ty or whatever you want to call the baby, was just as difficult as his father, and sadly, I'd known Spike for a lot longer.  So even though there's a big difference between not getting any sleep because someone's out getting drunk and picking fights and not getting any sleep because someone keeps soiling themselves and needing _you_ to clean it up and sing every song you _know_ to get them back to sleep, the end product was the same.  Ty…I mean Alex…was very time consuming and very exhausting.

In retrospect, I realize that I was being maybe a _little_ over-possessive, but what first time mother _isn't_ a bit on the neurotic side?  I wanted everything perfect, and I wanted to do it all myself, despite the help that I knew the others were more than willing to give.  In fact, Spike became rather alienated after a few weeks of me shoving him away or refusing his assistance, and he eventually retired to his old standby, the twenty-four hour You-Can't-Tell-I'm-Pouting-If-I-Just-Refuse-To-Look-At-You, one of my Spike Spiegel _favorites_.  So you see, it was just as much his childishness as my possessive mothering that formed a sudden rift between us.  It seemed things had changed since the confession in the hospital room, and I was starting to wonder if there was just no hope for the two of us.  I mean, seriously, I was starting to get really frustrated with the whole thing, and I was so busy and sleep-deprived with Ty that I couldn't really spare time to ponder his stupidity.  But then…when it was night and I was blessed with a few quiet moments…I would wonder what Spike was doing, and I actually missed talking to him more than anything else.

It's weird, isn't it?  I always thought that when I met the man I loved I'd just want to jump him all day and couldn't be around him without having a multitude of sexual thoughts, but now that I was well and truly in love…well, it wasn't like I _didn't_ think Spike was hot.  I mean, he is.  But the thing is that what I really wanted from him was something more emotional, as girly and clichéd as that sounds.  And it was driving me crazy having to go without any sort of relationship with the lanky man who was the father of my child.  I missed him, and it was stupid, and I eventually realized how stupid I was being about everything.  I wanted to be with Spike, and he had told me he loved me, and I loved him, so what were we _waiting_ for?  Tiny cherubs to come from the sky and shoot us through the hearts?  A desperate life or death situation?  I think not.  I mean, I may be the oldest woman of my age ever to walk around, thanks to the wonders of cryogenic freezing…but life is short.  And I had wasted so much time on this one little hang up, this stupid insecurity and awkwardness, that it was becoming utterly ridiculous.

So from hearing me thus far, I'm sure you'd think that I'd get off my ass and _do_ something about it, right?  Well, you'd be wrong.  Because in the end, it was Spike that decided to get everything cleared up.  As I've said before, patience is a virtue that he has precious little of.  So one night, at the ungodly hour of 4:35 am, I was heating up a bottle while balancing a whimpering baby on one weary hip when Spike entered the darkened kitchen as though he often strolled into the kitchen at that hour.

"Hey," he said, opening the fridge as though that was his entire purpose, and though a midnight snack wasn't unusual for him, I was a bit surprised to hear his voice.  He had been giving me the silent treatment like some moody woman for about two weeks now, and I had grown so accustomed to it that I had almost forgotten how sweet his voice felt on my ears.  How it was soft and just a little husky when he was sleepy, how it came out low and warm and thick like chocolate sauce, and how it made me feel when I heard it.  "You're up late."

"Ty's hungry." I told him, feeling my heart pound a bit faster when he closed the refrigerator door without actually pulling anything out and turned to look at me through sleep-lidded eyes.  "I was warming up a bottle."  Why did I feel so _nervous?_  I felt like a twelve year old girl who was talking to her secret crush or something, and it was pathetic.  I hoped that Spike couldn't tell.

"Can I help?" his voice didn't hold a lot of strength right then, and it made me feel guilty.  He had asked me that so many times only to be refused.  No _wonder_ he stopped asking, stopped talking to me, avoided me almost altogether, which was quite a feat considering we lived on an enclosed ship.

"Uh," my instinct was to say no, but the same inner voice that had already told me off for being such an _idiot_ about the Spike issue immediately reminded me that Ty was just as much Spike's son as he was mine.  "Do you want to test the milk for me?"  A simple enough task, and I was trying for a compromise here, a sort of implied apology for the uptight bitchiness of the past weeks.  Even though he had _definitely_ been a baby about it.  Well, he _had_.

"Okay." He sounded ridiculously eager for someone who was typically so aloof, but then I thought about how little he'd been allowed to do since we'd brought Ty home, and I felt stupid all over again.  He was picking up the bottle with the tongs I handed him, and I watched as he looked at me a bit unsurely before squirting a little on his wrist like he'd probably seen me do about a zillion times.  I smiled at him and nodded, and the response was more than I could have hoped for.  Very few times does Spike offer up to anyone, even me, a real, true, genuine smile, and this was one of those times.  I felt happy and sad all at once.  I wanted to kiss him and tell him how stupid I was and apologize and beg for forgiveness and tell him how wonderful he really was even though I treated him like shit sometimes…but instead I just blushed and accepted the bottle he handed me.  It was warm, but not too hot of course.  "Is it alright?"

"Yeah, thanks." I told him, and then I was lost.  What should I say?  I knew that I wouldn't get infinite chances with Spike, and it seemed like every one I got, I let slip through my fingers like water.  "Wanna sit down?  I'm a little tired of standing."  Wow, slick Faye.

"Sure." Spike followed me to the couch and sat down, fiddling with the torn hem of the old shirt he slept in for quite some time before speaking up again as Ty silently nursed.  "You must be really tired."

"You have no idea." I agreed immediately.

"I could…you know…I could help." He sounded unsure, and so thoroughly _not_ like Spike that it only intensified my already strong feelings of guilt.  "With Ty, I mean.  You shouldn't have to do everything yourself.  I told you I would help, you know."

"I know." I nodded, feeling foolish.  "I just…yeah.  I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have been so…you know."

"Jet said…since it's your first baby and all…" Spike was having as much trouble finishing coherent thoughts as I was.  That made life simpler.

"But that's still not fair to you." I told him, blushing like mad and hating myself for it.  "After everything…and what you said."

"I meant it." He told me, obviously understanding what I was saying, fragmented as it was.

"So did I." I glanced up at him and was relieved to see him looking relatively pleased, a small smile quirking his mouth the slightest bit, his eyes dancing as I let myself drift in the hypnotic, two-tone gaze.  "What's wrong with us?"

"Nothing, really." He answered, brushing a lock of hair back from my face.  "I bet this is how all parents are."

"Sure." I laughed at that, the thought of hundred of thousands of families living as bounty hunters was frankly amusing.  "But really, why can't we just let ourselves be happy?"

"Dunno." He leaned back and stretched his arms over the headrest, one draping lazily over my shoulders as Ty began to fall asleep, having thoroughly devoured his midnight snack.  "Maybe we got so used to dealing with bad stuff, we can't handle the good things anymore."

"Maybe we can if we try." I told him, closing my eyes and letting my head rest on his shoulder.  "Spike?"

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding a lot more like himself now that we'd had our little chat.

"Can I sleep in your bed?" I didn't ask for how long, I just thought it seemed like a really good idea, sleeping with him.  Just being with him at all for any amount of time was so nice, and it was something I had come to need more than anything else.

"Let's put Ty to sleep." I took that as a yes, and I guess I was right.  Ten minutes later we were both in bed, and even though I had deprived the poor man for months, he didn't go any farther than a few fervent kisses to my throat before settling against me with my face to his chest and his arms around me.  It was the best thing I'd ever had, and I didn't ever want to forget it.

"I love you Spike." I told him when I started to drift off, which took very little time.  "But I swear…if that baby cries, you get it.  It is _your_ turn."

"No problem." I could hear the smile in his voice, and his arms tightened slightly.  In that moment, between sleep and wakefulness, I realized that all was right in my own little universe, and that no matter what happened, I would have this.  I would be complete for the first time ever, and I would never let it go.

I don't think Spike minded that much.

*****

THE END!!!


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